


A Bright Christmas

by ToriCeratops



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alpha Gil Arroyo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barebacking, Christmas Magic, Christmas fic, Fluff, Getting Together, Intentionally Hallmark Christmas Movie levels of CHEESE, Kid Fic, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Bites, Mpreg, Omega Malcolm Bright, Panic Attacks, Santa Claus - Freeform, Slightly healthier than canon Malcolm Bright, Slow Burn, So no Watkins or Girl in the Box, THE HAPPIEST OF ENDINGS, canon adjacent, holiday fic, offscreen mpreg, past brandasara, past canon character death, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27403897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: The holidays aren't exactly Malcolm's favorite time of the year.  Haven't been for a long time.But this is the first year he and his little girl will be spending Christmas in New York.  Gil and his daughter are determined to make it the best one they've ever had, for all four of them.Of course, the girls have slightly ulterior motives.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 74
Kudos: 65





	1. A Bright Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twice_before_Friday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/gifts).



> Today is the Birthday of one of the sweetest, most adorable people I have ever had the pleasure of calling friend. It has come up _once or twice_ that this person has a particularly favorite type of movie to watch.
> 
> So Happy Birthday, Friday.
> 
> I wrote you a Hallmark Christmas Movie. 

## Prologue

_A Bright Idea_

When CJ Bright is six years old, two weeks before her seventh birthday, her dad comes home early, lets their nanny go for the day, and begins packing a bag. 

At first she assumes, as she always does, that he will be going out for his job. Though, he did just get back and he tries really, very hard to make sure to stick around for a while in between. When she notes that he’s putting items into an actual suitcase and not his usual duffel bag she knows she needs to say something or she won’t ever figure out what’s going on.

Malcolm breaks down into tears the moment she breaks the silence with a soft, “Daddy?”

He holds her while he cries, and she tries to kiss his tears away. Malcolm explains that they’re going to visit Grandma and Aunt Ainsley in New York for a little while. Maybe just a weekend or a week but certainly not much longer than that. 

It’s a great little vacation that she spends almost entirely with her Grandmother and they make it back home in time to have her birthday party with all the friends she has in Mrs. Anderson’s first grade class. 

School ends a month later and suddenly they’re moving.

CJ does her best not to complain. She tries so hard to understand that her daddy knows what he’s doing, to believe his promises that things will work out, that she’ll make new friends, and that she can keep up with the old ones sometimes. Also that it’s for the best. Daddy’s never lied to her before, of course, but other adults have, and do so regularly. So while she wants to trust that he’s right, sometimes the anger slips out. 

He never yells back at her when she messes up and lets it all out at once. He’s calm and patient and understanding and, really, the best daddy she could ever ask for.

She always apologizes after she yells like that. They’re all each other has and they have to stick together.

As it turns out - and honestly she _should_ have trusted him from the beginning - New York isn’t that bad.

For one, it’s got Grandma. 

Grandma is the _best._

She has the prettiest house, the prettiest clothes, the best sense of style and she gets CJ all the stuff her daddy always tells her she can’t have. Even her first pair of shiny heels. And when Aunt Ainsley comes over, they bake cookies. Or paint silly pictures. Or any number of other activities that leave a bigger mess and even bigger sets of giggles than their final product probably should have called for.

And though she does miss her old friends something crazy, she makes lots of new ones. Because apparently CJ Bright makes friends as easy as breathing. It helps that she’s never _really_ been shy or anything like that. Talking to people is just… easy. Daddy always tells her that she gets that from her grandmother who has never met a stranger. CJ is friends with everyone in second grade by the end of the first week.

What should probably be the best part about living in New York is that Daddy is home _all the time._ Not like, every second, of course. But every night they eat dinner together. Sometimes with Grandma, sometimes with Aunt Ainsley. Sometimes with both or with friends. She gets to go on playdates and daddy picks her up. She has functions or performances at school and he is _always_ there. They do have a nanny, a lady who is probably the nicest person CJ has ever met, that she calls Rhi Rhi who has a silly accent she claims is from Canada and teaches CJ all sorts of cool arts and crafts. 

But anyway. Having daddy around all the time _should_ be the best part. But it isn’t.

Because the best part of New York is that now she has Lizzy. 

Lizzy is almost a year older than CJ and in the third grade at a different school. But that’s okay because they met when CJ’s daddy started working with Lizzy’s daddy, Gil. Technically, they had met before, but all CJ remembers about that trip is a lot of people crying and dressed in black. She had never met Lizzy’s mommy and Malcolm tells her she was probably a little too young when she met Gil and Lizzy the first time to really remember any of those details. 

Elizabeth Arroyo is probably the most awesome person CJ Bright has ever met. She has long, soft, dark hair that she lets CJ braid whenever she wants. She has all the best jokes and silly stories to tell. They both like the same YouTube channels and Netflix shows. And Lizzy has three of the fluffiest cats CJ has ever seen in her entire life. By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, any time they are in the same place they are instantly attached at the hip and nearly have to be pried apart. 

“You two have been so well behaved tonight.” Lizzy’s daddy, Gil, is kneeling in front of them with a big smile on his face and one hand on his daughter’s shoulder. 

It’s been a long afternoon. CJ and Malcolm had come to the Arroyo’s place the Saturday after Thanksgiving to have dinner with some of the people they work with and their families. It’s really the first time CJ’s gotten to meet anyone daddy works with besides Gil and they’re nice enough. But it’s tough to be polite and _well behaved_ in front of so many adults for so long - all the yes sirs and no ma’ams and answering _so many questions._ Like what’s her favorite subject and is she liking her new school and what does she like to do _after_ school and what does CJ stand for? Daddy had laughed when Mr. JT asked that last one for some reason, but she knows it wasn’t at her. 

That was the only question she didn’t answer. 

CJ is ready to curl up with Lizzy and watch Moriah Elizabeth on her tablet. 

“Go on upstairs, brush your teeth, and change into your PJs. Both of you. Either me or Mr. Malcolm will be up to give you lights out in about an hour. Okay?”

CJ groans out loud and she can tell Lizzy wants to protest but doesn’t. Because they’re both _good_ , but Lizzy is way better at it. 

“Oh come on, Gil. If we’re going to be here with the rest of the crew late into the night there’s no reason they can’t enjoy the extra time, too.” Malcolm probably would have normally gotten onto CJ but apparently holidays mean she can get away with a little extra. She’ll have to note that for later.

But before she can think on it too much, she notices something that makes everything kind of stop. 

Mr. Gil is looking up at Malcolm from where he’s kneeling, smile gone soft and crinkling the edges of his eyes like CJ sees on his face a lot when he’s looking at her daddy. 

Malcolm, however, is smiling back at him in a way that’s _close_ to how he looks at her sometimes, but there’s something different. CJ has never really seen it before. At least, not on him. 

She’d seen it earlier in the night, in the way Mr. JT looked at Ms. Tally. 

She’d seen it in the way Mrs. Anderson looked at her wife every time the other Mrs. Anderson brought in a different snake to show off to their class.

She’d seen it.

She’s looking at it right now in the way Mr. Gil is looking at her daddy.

“Okay!” CJ says suddenly, grabbing Lizzy’s hand and tugging her back toward the stairs. “We’re going, right now, quick as a bee. Bees. Whatever. We’re gone and you won’t hear a peep from us. Love you, daddy. Good night!”

Lizzy doesn’t really fight the tug and they stumble up the stairs together in a fit of giggles with laughter from both their daddies behind them. 

“What are you in such a hurry for?” Lizzy asks her the second the bedroom door is closed.

CJ can’t hold still. 

She spins around in the open space of Lizzy’s pink and yellow bedroom then tugs on her hair with an excited squeal. Lizzy is laughing at her now, though still looking at her like she’s maybe perhaps lost her marbles. “Lizzy. Liz. Lizard. Lizbeth. I have to ask you the most important question anyone will ever ask you in our whole entire lives.” CJ does one last spin before coming right up to Lizzy and grabbing her hands, trying and failing to get her face to look very serious indeed.

Lizzy is still shaking with laughter but nods. “Okay, what is it?”

“Elizabeth Marie Arroyo. Do you want to be my sister?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday, Kate would like to inform you that this is Knot your average Hallmark movie.
> 
> ...except it _totally_ is.


	2. Ghosts of Christmas Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special thanks to my _amazing_ Beta, [Kate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateSamantha), and the beautiful [Caitie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys). I could not have gotten through writing this in just a month without you two, your crazy ideas, your wonderful cheerleading, and just your general awesomeness. 
> 
> Love you both.

## Chapter One

_Ghosts of Christmas Past_

Gil’s attic is a mess of dust and cobwebs. Hot. Musty. Dirty. Cluttered.

Worse than all of that, it’s a mess of memories.

Jackie’s preserved wedding dress is still in a carefully sealed plastic box just inside the ladder. She’d hoped to see Elizabeth in it one day.

The pieces of Lizzy’s old bed are leaning against a wall behind that. It had been one of those convertible cribs that turned into a toddler bed then a full size thing. When his daughter had asked for a new bed earlier in the year he hadn’t had the heart to tell her how long her mother had searched for the _perfect_ one or ask if she didn’t want to stay in it a little longer? He was the one attached to it at that point and simply put it up in the attic, not able to part with it just yet. 

A few things catch his gaze, like the old boxes of decorations for all the various seasons, small pieces of furniture that were still in good shape but had fallen out of Jackie’s favor, and the hand me down clothes for a boy they’d never got to hold. Jackie had always kept hoping she’d get better and be able to use them one day.

She never did.

Gil wipes away some of the dust from his eyes.

Far at the back of the cramped space is a pile of sealed bright red and green boxes, one long thin one at the bottom and a handful of mismatched shaped ones on top of that. There’s a good two years worth of build up on this particular collection, since he and Lizzy hadn’t really felt up to doing too much the year before, everything still too raw and fresh on their beaten hearts. 

But this year has been like a renewal for them as they slowly put themselves back together into something new. They’ll never be what they were with her, but they’ll be okay.

So he blows away the dust from the top most box and grabs the lid. It takes him several breaths to force himself to pull the lid up, but eventually he manages it. 

Gil really wishes he was better at labeling this shit.

It’s the one box he’d hoped to ignore, the one he’s not sure he’s ready to bring out just yet. 

In carefully separated sections, lined in foam and soft velvet fabric, are Christmas ornaments from every single year he and Jackie had been married. Twenty Two individual pieces, each unique, each with a year somewhere on it. A very few are fancy glass pieces they had picked up while traveling somewhere. Most are Hallmark Keepsake ornaments that had said something about them that year. Their first year as husband and wife. The year they bought their first house. The year Lizzy was born. The most precious are those that Jackie had crafted together herself. She was no master sculpture by any means, but sometimes they couldn’t find something that really _fit_ the year or their interests so they would decide together what she would create. The Le Mans was her first, and by _far_ his favorite. Gil strokes her fingerprint that is still visible in the hardened clay.

He carefully replaces the lid and sets that box to the side. Even if he’s not ready right this second to dwell on them all, he knows he might want to and, more importantly, Lizzy might want to sooner than later. 

The next box down is full of carefully wrapped and packaged lights. This one is apparently their selection of multi-colored lights. Jackie never had the same ideas for decoration from one year to the next so it was imperative they be ready for whatever mood she was in. A box somewhere else in this stack contains their white light collection. 

Gil will let Lizzy decide which they’re going to use this year. 

And maybe finally teach her how to find duds. 

Next is the box he’d been most excited to bring down and add to. This one is full of all the decorations Lizzy has made for the tree over her last eight years. From infant hand prints to crude construction paper cut outs, they had saved every last scrap. From the way she and CJ have been going on lately about their favorite craft YouTube videos they’re in for a whole slew of new ones this year. 

At least Malcolm will get to share in the joy of finding glitter in his living room in the middle of June.

For a few minutes he carefully goes through the hand crafted ornaments, trying to remember if there are any special moments to recall as he picks up then replaces each one in a slightly different place so he can pull the next. 

His hand hovers over a palm sized plastic snowflake with a rainbow of paint in abstract shapes covering the back. 

Gil knows what this one is. 

This is the last one. The one that when he turns it over, he’ll find their Christmas picture from 2017. The last one they had purposely taken as a family before everything was suddenly swept out from beneath their feet. 

His fingers fold around the rough, cheaply cut out edge. There are sharp bits that dig into his skin and a piece of the simple elementary school acrylic paint flakes off. 

A bit of blue floats down into the box below. 

A tear slips down his cheek.

Beneath the hand made ornament box is a thin one that he knows the contents of without even opening it. 

This one will stay in the attic. 

In an album somewhere on their living room shelves are six pages of the same picture, slightly different each time. Gil, holding Lizzy, putting the star at the top of their tree. At first he held her and she watched in awe. Then she’d have her hand on his. Then he was simply holding her with a bright smile on his face and an ever brighter smile in his arms while she did it all by herself. 

Jackie isn’t in any of them. 

She’d been behind the camera every year and refused to do it any differently no matter his protests. 

This star. 

He barely stops himself from throwing it off into a dark corner of the attic and instead places it carefully with the other box of memories. 

After a few moments to collect himself and dry his cheeks again Gil dives into the next box, knowing - from process of elimination - that it will be the collection of interior house decorations. Manger scenes and christmas village pieces to decorate the mantle. In one of these is an antique metal train set that Jackie had inherited from her father, and they used to put around the tree each year ‘til they had gotten their cats. 

“Daddy?”

Lizzy’s quiet voice snaps Gil out of his memories and he looks behind him to find her standing at the top of the attic ladder, a look on her face caught somewhere between disgust and determination. She's always been adverse to dirt.

His own face breaks out into a smile and he gestures for her to come in further. 

“What are you looking for?” She asks as she comes up to where he’s kneeling.

“Daddy is looking through all of our Christmas decorations to figure out what we might want to put out this year.” He picks up a Rudolph figurine and boops her on the nose with it, which makes her giggle and his heart a touch lighter. 

With a smile still on her face, Lizzy peers into the box, picking up a few items before repeating. She becomes contemplative, a look he’s used to seeing on his quiet little girl. 

“All of it,” she says with a sharp nod of her head.

Gil doesn’t bother hiding the confusion on his face but before he can ask her to explain any further she keeps going. 

“The white lights _and_ the rainbow lights on the tree and outside. The village. Mommy’s train set. All the wreaths.”

“ _All_ the wreaths?”

“All the wreaths.” 

“Lizzy, baby. We don’t have enough doors for all the wreaths your mom made over the years.” Nor does he know the _condition_ of some of those. He at least has a vague idea of where they may be, but that had always been the one thing she’d been entirely in charge of on her own, including picking which ones would coordinate each year.

She looks at Gil like he’s an idiot. “Then we put them on the _windows.”_ There’s a not so subtle undertone of _duh_ in the way she says that and almost rolls her eyes. _“_ Or hang them in the hall if we run out of windows.” 

When Gil doesn’t respond right away, she keeps digging carefully into the open box in front of them, determination slipping over her features again. He wants to simply embrace this rediscovered enthusiasm for the holiday, but he also wants to make sure that he isn’t missing something important, that they’re always talking about what they’re feeling especially when it comes to things that are so closely entwined with Jackie’s memory.

Slowly (and carefully, because his knees aren’t what they used to be), Gil shifts so that he’s sitting on the floor instead of kneeling, glad he’s wearing old sweats since he’s going to be extra covered in dust now.

“Lizzy, come here,” he says softly. 

She sniffs and nods, crawling into his lap where she curls up and immediately lays her head on his chest. Gil spends a moment running his fingers through her long black hair, careful of a couple of small tangles that have formed over the morning hours. By her reaction he knows there’s way more going on here and he kisses the top of her hair.

“You want to tell me what’s going through your head?” He mumbles, not really lifting his head up.

Lizzy wiggles in his arms and sighs. “I mean, I want to remember mommy and all the things she loved.” That’s clear enough, of course. Her pause, however, lends itself to there being so much more so he waits patiently for her to finish. “But also…” She trails off and doesn’t keep going, a tiny little groan rumbling through her chest.

“Also?” Gil prompts.

She pulls back just enough so she can look up into his eyes and frowns. “Did you know CJ and her daddy don’t really like Christmas?”

Gil hadn’t known that. He’d never really been around Malcolm around the Holidays and he had almost stopped seeing him completely after CJ was born. Not that he blames the kid. Being a single parent for the last two years has been hard enough to balance everything even with the support he gets from his mother who lives close by. He can’t imagine how hard it was for Malcolm on his own almost from day one and far away from any support system. Especially with the job he had. 

“Are you sure?” He asks her with an exaggerated frown to hide his own concern. The concept isn’t too surprising, if he’s being honest with himself. “I can’t imagine anyone not liking Christmas. Did she tell you why?”

Lizzy shakes her head. “Not really. She just said it was dumb and even when her daddy tried to do something cool, it always got ruined.” She shrugs and pouts, bottom lip sticking out for a second before continuing. “Didn’t say how, though.” 

That’s actually kind of concerning. He knows that when Malcolm is determined to do something there really isn’t much that will get in the way of him seeing it to completion. He can’t imagine that when it comes to doing things for CJ that it’s any different. As a matter of fact, he’s bound to be even more determined in making sure she’s taken care of whether it’s things she needs or simply something that will make her happy.

“So you want to do all this to give CJ an amazing holiday experience?”

“And her daddy,” Lizzy adds with a nod. She looks down, shoulders slumping. “He’s sad a lot. CJ says he tries to hide the really bad days from her but, she knows.” 

THAT Gil knows. Knows well. One of Malcolm’s biggest fears when he’d been expecting CJ was how he would handle all his own mental health issues and a kid. Having known CJ much better for the last six months Gil knows the kid’s done pretty well - at least, outwardly. 

“Alright then.” Gil grasps his daughter by the shoulder with one hand then holds out his other between them with just his pinky up. “You and me. We’re gonna sort through all of this stuff and then figure out how to get the Brights over here and make sure this is their best Christmas ever. Sound good?”

Lizzy’s smile is absolutely brilliant. She wraps her pinky around Gil’s and they both lean in to kiss their own hand at the same time, sealing the deal.

“Sounds awesome!”

  
  
  


Moving back to New York had honestly been the last thing Malcolm had ever expected to do in his life. 

Being a single Omega parent in DC had been difficult enough to navigate with a respected and hard won career. 

Once he’d been jobless to boot, there really hadn’t been much of an option. 

The only reason he had been able to get that position in the FBI while already a parent in the first place is because CJ’s father had agreed to swear on paper they were together. Malcolm had serious doubts he’d be able to get the Alpha to lie about their status again. Problem was, the only thing Malcolm knew how to do - the only thing Malcolm had ever wanted to do - was be a Criminal Profiler. 

So he packed up their life in DC and came home, hoping and praying every night he’d figure it out, figure something out. For CJ’s sake, if not his own. He really didn’t want her to grow up as the child of someone living off their trust fund alone. 

Especially Malcolm’s trust fund.

Then one day, Gil had shown up and all but saved his life.

And wonder of wonders - but maybe not that surprising - CJ and Lizzy had become instant best friends. CJ had completely stopped throwing fits about having moved away from her old friends within a week of meeting her.

So now, he sees _a lot_ of Gil. 

Once upon a time, when Malcolm had been a teenager, he’d developed a painful and massive crush on the Alpha. It had waned, over the years, as most youthful infatuations do.

But now, watching Gil with his own little girl, and worse, with Malcolm’s little girl, is digging up all those old long buried thoughts and feelings. The subtle twists of his heart when Gil laughs feel exactly the same. As does the way his chest flutters when the Alpha tells a completely ridiculous Dad joke that Malcolm is convinced he’s been telling since the guy was a child himself. 

It doesn’t help that Malcolm hasn’t had a serious romantic relationship pretty much, well, ever. Even his tumultuous relationship with CJ’s Alpha father had always been a solidly physical one. What had started as a long term friends with some _excellent_ side benefits had turned into a friends with complications and eventually more antagonistic than anything else. 

That Alpha, however, isn’t the one Malcolm has to worry about right this second.

No, what Malcolm has to worry about is keeping his smile in check while he, Gil, CJ, and Lizzy all wander the streets of Manhattan doing their first proper round of Christmas shopping. Today is mostly for browsing, hoping to get some good ideas and make plans for who is going to receive what. He’s conscious of the fact that the types of things he can and will spend money on are in a vastly different budget than what Gil’s will be so they make sure to do as little spending as possible around the girls.

CJ and Lizzy have their arms linked together, somewhat lost in their own little world of giggles and attempts to walk silly down the sidewalk with Gil and Malcolm a couple of paces behind them. 

He can’t look like a besotted fool. Can’t get caught and make this painfully awkward because he _has_ to make sure CJ can have this and he doesn’t ruin it like he ruins everything else. 

“OH MY GOSH!” 

One of the girls squeals and he’s honestly not even sure he could pinpoint which one it is as they both start bouncing and walking a little quicker towards a storefront Malcolm doesn’t recognize. They come though this area pretty often and he’s fairly certain he would have noticed a facade of thick wood logs, frosted windows and red bows draped across the eaves intertwined with twinkling lights. There’s fake snow on the awnings and he briefly wonders how they got it to look so real - it’s even glistening. There’s a wooden sign with carved letters proclaiming the place to be “The Workshop” with a small metal plaque hanging from it that says “New York Branch”.

Malcolm has to admit, it’s a pretty impressive Christmas set up.

“I am almost one hundred percent certain this space was completely empty just a week ago,” he says to Gil while they both keep an eye on the girls who have pressed their noses up to the windows to peer inside. 

Gil chuckles from deep in his chest as he looks over their heads to get a peek himself. “Maybe all those elves inside worked their magic to get it up and running so quickly.” 

Sure enough, when the four of them step through the doors the place is teeming with shoppers and staff dressed in surprisingly beautiful and intricate uniforms that give off the air of ‘Santa’s helpers.’ There isn’t a cheap felt hat or tiny metal bell in sight and the details he can see on the staffer closest to him are _exquisite._

The doors bring them into a vast, wide open toy shop - but that’s just the first floor. Overlooking the massive area is a balcony that has large, sweeping wooden stairs leading up to it where Malcolm can see rows and rows of carefully put together christmas decoration displays. All manner of themed trees and collections of wreaths and outdoor decorations and things Malcolm doesn’t even know what anyone would actually do with. Every shelf looks as if it’s made of thick, solid, stained cherry wood. There are dark wooden ceiling beams overhead that give the look of a much older building. Even the air has a faint scent of cinnamon and pine - just subtle enough to notice and not be overwhelming. 

Gil quickly guides the girls out of the entrance and off to the side while Malcolm is still a bit wonderstruck. He kneels down in front of them and places a hand on Lizzy’s shoulder.

“You girls are to stick not only to each other, but to Malcolm and myself. If you wander off out of sight, grab things off shelves without asking, or run at any point, we will leave immediately, understood?”

Even though they’re both bouncing on the balls of their feet and absolutely itching to explore, both girls nod enthusiastically and give him an excited mixture of “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

While the place is nowhere near as large and sprawling as some of the department stores in the city, he’s still pretty convinced that they could easily get lost in here for hours. 

The four of them head off towards the far end of the shop so they can make sure to see every single inch of available toys and he prepares himself for a long - _long_ \- journey. It passes by easily and comfortably enough, chatting and laughing as a group through row after row. They get caught up in every other aisle - everyone, including Malcolm, wanting to stop at some point and explore a section a little more. Every section is themed by interest but what Malcolm is most excited to see is that while the standard items you can get anywhere are there, there’s also always a selection of more unique toys. Items that look hand made, toys and games from other countries and cultures, and even retro looking selections that appear as if they had been preserved in pristine condition for decades. 

All of them are caught in peals of laughter after Gil had stopped in a long row of costumes to put on a a Kristoff hat and sing “Reindeer are better than people” when suddenly the sound of the girls’ mirth is cut off and replaced with a stereo exclamation of - 

“SANTA!”

Malcolm looks up to find a portly old man coming towards them and knows immediately where their enthusiasm had come from. Though he’s not in the complete get up, he does have a full head of thick white hair and a respectable but cropped stark white beard. His cream colored, cable knit sweater is only broken up by a pair of embroidered black suspenders holding up a pair of woolen burgundy pants with more intricate gold embroidery just above the fur trim of his black boots. 

“Good afternoon!” He gives the four of them a grin - there’s even a _twinkle_ in his bright green eyes - and a short wave. “What a lovely little family we have here. Are you enjoying your exploration of our workshop?”

Gil and Malcolm both glance at each other, surprise in their gazes and lips slightly parted in startlement. But they don’t have the chance to correct the man as the girls are both very quick to proclaim their love of everything they’ve seen so far. It doesn’t escape Malcolm’s notice that Gil is the first one to look down and away while Malcolm feels a blush creeping up over his cheeks while his stomach does somersaults. 

He _likes_ the sound of that. 

And he really, _really,_ shouldn’t. Malcolm takes a deep breath and tries to plaster on an easy smile while attempting to take his thoughts in literally any other direction. 

“This is my daddy, Malcolm!” CJ’s voice cuts through his mental wandering and she grabs his hand to tug him forward. Malcolm is caught a bit off guard and has to stop himself from stumbling.

The kindly old man laughs and nods in greeting, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bright.” Wait, did CJ give her last name? Malcolm wasn’t really paying attention. “My name is Nicholas.”

“This is a lovely store you have,” Gil offers, saving Malcolm from having to figure out how to speak again. “Are you the manager?”

“Oh, I own this establishment, actually!” 

“How long have you been in business?” Malcolm asks, still boggling over the fact that he swears he’s never seen it before or any indication it was going in. “I’ve never seen it before and it is very impressive.”

“Well thank you, Mr. Bright. We have an online presence all year but we only open up our in person stores during the Holiday season. It is a little expensive to operate in New York city year round, after all.”

“I’m enjoying the authenticity,” Gil smirks and ruffles Lizzy’s hair who tries to shove him off. “I feel like we’re at the North Pole!”

“Actually,” Malcolm says, another staff member passing close enough that he gets another glance at their clothing, noticing just as intricate and fine looking as the work on Nicholas’ clothing. “I’m more impressed by the uniforms.”

He seems quite pleased by that comment, straightening up with an even bigger smile and a gesture towards the young woman in a long green tunic. 

“Those are all samples of things we sell in the clothing section! You can even find some of my own gear there.”

“Why would you need to sell copies of what _you_ wear?” Lizzy asks, voice full of skepticism. 

Malcolm puts a hand on CJ’s shoulder as discreetly as he can and gives her a little squeeze. They’ve never done Santa at Christmas - call him jaded but Malcolm had sworn to himself he’d never lie about _anything_ to his little girl and magical holiday characters had been included. However, she understands the idea, the spirit of the thing and that most children believe in magic and _that’s okay_ and it is absolutely not her place to say anything different. As far as he’s aware, she’s been pretty good at not spoiling things.

She doesn’t disappoint him this time.

“Santa can’t be everywhere at once,” she points out with only a smidgen of her cynicism showing through.

Nicholas drops to one knee in front of the girls and nods. “Exactly. I may have enough magic to get things done really efficiently and get places I need to be very fast, but even I can’t be here and at the mall and at the old folks home at the same exact time. So I make sure those people helping me out have what they need to represent me as best as they can.” 

He winks at CJ and Malcolm catches the way she rolls her eyes but thankfully Lizzy is too entranced by Santa to notice. 

Lizzy starts asking a million other questions which, thankfully, CJ doesn’t comment too much on every time Nicholas responds. 

While the girls are distracted, Malcolm leans in close to Gil and covers his mouth as if sharing a secret. “You want to go buy a fancy Santa suit?” he asks under his breath.

Gil gives him a side eyed glare. “I think I’m still a few years and a several more pounds away from being able to pull that off,” he says with a huff. 

Malcolm tilts his head and makes a show of looking Gil up and down, not even bothering to feel ashamed at using it as an excuse to stare openly at the handsome Alpha for a moment. Then he hums. “I don’t know. I’ll agree you’ll never get away with the jolly part but,” he pauses and touches a finger to his own chin. “That goatee has more salt than pepper in it these days.”

The warmth of Gil’s sudden burst of laughter sends a thrill down Malcolm’s spine. 

Just like it always has. 

They start to move off, noticing the girls have lost interest in the princess dresses, when Malcolm’s phone chimes in his pocket. 

He’s still laughing until he brings it up and finds the name he always dreads seeing peering up at him. 

> _VIJAY: Hey BB Boy! In NYC nxt wk. CU n lil Rissa then!_

Malcolm’s blood runs cold and all the warmth and enjoyment he’s built up over their day out shopping vanishes in an instant. 

He had hoped he’d made himself clear the previous year. Or that maybe the move back to New York would make something different. At the very least, that he’d listened to Malcolm’s impassioned pleas a few months earlier to just leave them the hell alone. 

But like every Christmas before, CJ’s father is on his way to upend their lives once again.


	3. This is Fine

## 

##  Chapter Two

_ This is Fine _

The temperature hasn’t quite dropped enough for it to really snow yet. But it’s just close enough that the drizzling rain on Gil’s drive to his parent’s home to pick up Lizzy is icy cold and miserable. He has to park far enough away that by the time he makes it through the front door he’s damp and chilled, a bit of a shiver in his hands and voice. 

Thankfully, his dad’s got a fire going - roaring full and warm and just waiting for him to sit by just to chase away the chill. 

He’s in a deep cushioned armchair next to where his dad is dozing with an open book across his slowly rising and falling chest waiting for either his mom or Lizzy to come into the living room. It’s unusual for his daughter not to barrel down the stairs and right into him as soon as he comes into the house so when his mom pokes her head into the room with a soft smile he raises his brows. 

“Someone hiding from me?” 

“Oh, she’s upstairs finishing her homework,” Delila says, coming into the room. “Had some project she needed to work on that took longer than she expected. Sit. Eat. Stay awhile and catch up with your poor old mother.” She grabs the book on his dad’s chest and smacks him with it lightly on the arm. “Emilio, wake up. You’ll be up all night if you keep up this napping.”

He jerks a little and snorts, then pretends to go right back to sleep. 

“Mom,” Gil rolls his eyes at the two of them with a fond smile before standing and following her into the kitchen. “I was here two days ago for dinner. It’s not like you never see me.” Despite his argument, Gil takes a seat at the small kitchen table and settles in for a little while. It’s not like he wants to avoid her, and he’s always ready for her food, especially after a long day at work. 

Delila kisses him on the top of his head like she’s always done before feeding him and plops down a steaming bowl of Chicken Afritada on the table. He  _ really _ can’t make any more complaints on the matter after that. Half hearted or not. 

She gives him a few minutes to dive into the stew, sitting across from him and simply watching at first. Once he’s had a few good bites, however, she starts drawing little shapes on the table cloth with her finger, trying to look nonchalant and Gil has to force himself not to groan. That’s always an indication of a conversation he really doesn’t want to have.

“You remember Sandra Childer’s little girl? Rachel?”

Gil swallows, then scoffs. “Little? She’s taller than I am. Older, too.”

“By just a year,” she says with a wave of her hand. “And maybe an inch, at best. Besides, that’s not the point. She’s going to be joining us for dinner this weekend along with her parents. You and Lizzy should come!”

Gil momentarily loses his appetite. He sets his spoon down slowly and swallows, biding his time until he needs to respond by wiping at his mouth. 

“No.”

This is absolutely the last conversation he wants to have with anyone, let alone his mother, or right now. Or probably ever. 

“Well, that’s rather rude.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Gil does his absolute best to remain as calm as possible. But there’s a torrent of emotions in him that makes it difficult to keep a straight face so he winds up staring down into his dinner. Grief and fear and anger and the lingering ache of his loss are already starting to boil in the pit of his stomach. “No.”

“You have no idea what I’m trying to do.” Her tone of offence is just exaggerated enough that Gil recognizes it for a false one. She’s never been good at lying about her emotions. “And I’ll thank you to not make assumptions about my motives.”

Deep breath. Then another.

“At Thanksgiving,” his voice sounds tighter than he expects it to so he takes another breath. “You were not so subtly trying to inquire as to whether or not I’d tried meeting any new people or even remembered how to flirt. I don’t need to make assumptions about your motives, you made that perfectly clear then.”

“Gil.” She reaches for his hand that he has laid out on the table and curls her fingers around it with a gentle squeeze. “Honey.” Her concern, at least, is genuine. It always is, of course. He knows she’s trying to take care of him. “I’m not trying to introduce you to anyone I expect you to run away with or even find out you have romantic feelings for. I’m just trying to find people you can interact with, maybe be friends with, that aren’t your co-workers or your parents. I know you’ve fallen out of touch with most of Jackie’s friends, who were really your entire social life. I just don’t want you to be lonely.” 

“I’m not lonely, Mom,” he insists on yet another sigh. 

“Being a parent - spending time with your child - and having an adult who you can be completely open and honestly yourself with are not the same things and you know it.”

While Gil understands that, he really does, it doesn’t change the fact that he hasn’t really noticed it yet. Over a year was spent in suffocating grief, dark and seemingly inescapable except for the fact that he had to be there for Lizzy. If he hadn’t been for his determination to find ways to help her cope, he doubts he would have made it as far as he already has. And he’s just now remembering how to breathe as it is.

But even coming out into the light for the first time in two years, he doesn’t feel alone. 

“Let me ask you one thing,” he says. 

“Anything.”

“Is Rachel single?”

When his mother doesn’t answer right away, Gil knows he’s won the argument. 

“No matter what  _ your  _ intentions are, there will be an undercurrent of expectations from too many people.” He tries to take another bite of his stew but before he even swallows he knows the lump in his throat and the curl in his stomach have completely tampered down his appetite. He lets the spoon fall back into the bowl and hangs his head. “And besides all that… it’s only been two years. It’s too soon.”

“Two years is a long time.”

“We were together from when I was 14. Twenty eight years, mom.” Gil’s voice cracks. “ _ That’s _ a long time.”

Most of his life. Their life. They were the statistical exception. The high school sweethearts that grew closer together as they grew up and seemed unshakable. And they were. Everything they did from their wedding day on was either done together or for each other. Small tasks handled together, big decisions discussed and worked out for days on end. Vacations, holidays, family gatherings, success, failure, loss, grief. They’d done it all hand in hand. 

He’s still not used to sleeping in a bed by himself. 

Delila shifts, sliding her chair closer to where Gil is still sitting hunched over his bowl, arms on the table. She curls an arm around him and leans in close so she can prop her chin on his shoulder, speaking quietly while she gives him a comforting squeeze.

“I just want to make sure you understand that there’s not a timeline on grief, baby. There is no magic formula that says you have to mourn for a certain amount of time compared to how long you were together.” Gil looks up, lips parted to speak. The movement makes his mom pull back just a touch but she doesn't let go. “AND,” she cuts off his protest, “I’m not ever going to tell you you’ve grieved long enough. I don’t expect you to ever really  _ stop.  _ But I will point out that you have absolutely been  _ alone  _ long enough.” 

“I keep telling you, I’m not alone.”

“Oh really? 

Though he knows he doesn’t owe her an explanation, and he definitely wishes he didn’t have to, Gil says the first thing that pops into his head.

“Malcolm” He says it out loud without thinking but the instant he does, he knows that it’s the truth. Malcolm is currently his closest friend. When Gil had first been able to break the surface of his grief and come up for air Malcolm had already returned to his life. And with their little girls becoming such close friends almost instantaneously, he had been around a lot. He had made it so that the second Gil’s feet were on the ground, he had a reason to keep standing.

“The Whitly boy?”

“It’s Bright now, and he hasn’t been a boy for a long time.” Sometimes it’s difficult to remember that the kid he and Jackie looked over some times when he was a teenager is the same person as the man he knows now. But, he notes, that was kind of the point of the name change. Reinventing himself. Forcing himself to be something new. Gil knows CJ helped, and despairs to think at how bad off Malcolm might be if he hadn’t had to force himself better for his little girl. 

Apparently they have that in common. 

“Bright? So that’s CJ’s dad?”

Gil nods.

His mother goes silent, brows drawn in contemplation. She blinks a few times before nodding with a sigh.

“As long as you have someone.”

“I’m fine, mom. We’re fine. I promise.”

Gil tries not to let it show that he’s surprised at how true that really is.

  
  
  


“Toothbrush?”

“Got it.”

“Mr. Gumps?”

“Already in bed.”

“Extra hair ties?”

CJ holds up her arm, long sleeve falling back to reveal a rainbow of hair bands covering her wrist halfway to her elbow. Malcolm is glad she’s still little enough they don’t sit so tight they cut off circulation - he’s not sure he’d get her to stop doing that even then. 

“Okay, and you’re going to be extra well behaved for Gil right? Even better than you are for me?”

“But I’m always good for you, daddy!”

Malcolm just gives her a look, and she giggles.

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Then I guess there isn’t really anything else for me to do but to leave you here and hope you don’t have too much fun, otherwise you won’t ever want to come home with me.” 

CJ gets a glint in her eyes like she does when she’s about to sweet talk her way into an extra helping of dessert or more reading time before lights out. “I mean… we  _ could  _ stay here forever, you know. Lizzy wants us to and I don’t think Mr. Gil would mind.”

Malcolm bites his lips to keep from laughing and looks up from where he’s kneeling to find Gil making a show of thinking it all over. As much as Malcolm would absolutely  _ love  _ that, the idea of CJ being the one to ask for it is so adorable that he can ignore the way his heart skips a beat. 

“I don’t know, kid.” Gil strokes his goatee and hums. “I will admit, you are great. You’re well behaved and you even know how to put your dishes in the sink. But your dad….”

“Daddy can do that too! He can even  _ wash  _ the dishes which I can’t do yet. And he puts them away. And he can clean and cook and does better voices during bedtime stories than anyone else.”

“Well, that  _ is  _ a tempting offer.”

“Ok, first of all. I can’t cook. You are just addicted to Kraft Mac n Cheese, which happens to be the only thing I know how to make well, so you’re blinded to everything else. As for the rest… they don’t need a housekeeper and I’m sure Gil is just as good at bedtime stories.”

“I will never turn down a housekeeper.”

“Can he make brussel sprouts?” Lizzy asks. 

“Ew,” Malcolm and CJ say at the same time - which is apparently  _ hilarious  _ if the way Gil and Lizzy are suddenly laughing together is anything to go by. It’s enough of a distraction that they are able to escape that maddening topic of conversation and get back to Malcolm leaving, which he had meant to do over an hour earlier. Only, he and Gil had gotten to talking and Malcolm will never be the one to end that willingly. 

It isn’t as if he’s got anywhere better to be. But if he doesn’t go he’s afraid he’s going to wind up wanting to stay, too.

More than he already does, anyway.

He’s at the door giving CJ one last kiss goodbye when he hears Lizzy.

“Daddy,” Lizzy is tugging at Gil’s shirt and trying to get his attention in a loud whisper. Malcolm makes sure to pretend he can’t actually hear her. “ _ Ask him. _ ” 

Gil slaps a hand to his forehead. “I keep forgetting!” Malcolm holds back laughter at the way both girls roll their eyes. “Tomorrow after work we’re going to be going to pick out this year’s Christmas tree, then come back for decorating and hot chocolate. I know the original plan was just for a sleepover and the museum but Lizzy would like to invite CJ to stay a little later and join us for that part, too.” The current plans involve the girls being dropped off with Gil’s mom on his way to work in the morning who will be taking them to the Children’s Museum, which Lizzy has been talking about for over a month after her class went and CJ has been begging to see. Malcolm was going to pick her up just after lunch.

The girls seem to be having their own silent conversation while Gil speaks that Malcolm notices out of the corner of his eye. When he finishes, he notes that CJ is desperately gesturing up at him while Lizzy is pointing at CJ as if demanding that she do something.

Which she does.

“I only want to do it if daddy can come, too.”

“He hasn’t even said if you two are available,” Gil points out to her with a smile. 

Malcolm doesn’t want to overstep. He knows how special this time of year is for family, especially the Arroyos - especially  _ now  _ \- and as much as he’s pleasantly surprised by how enthusiastic CJ seems to be about the idea, it seems uncouth to intrude upon family. 

“Are you sure?” Malcolm asks quietly. “I mean, it’s kind of… it’s just…” He flounders for a reason to give. For an excuse. He’s tried so many times to get CJ enthused about the holidays, even if they aren’t exactly his favorite time of the year. But their lives tend to go in a bit of a pattern and every time he thinks he’s getting somewhere, something happens that makes her disenchanted with the whole idea. 

The first time she uttered the words ‘I hate Christmas,’ his heart had fucking  _ broken.  _

Her excitement is promising, filling his chest with hope. And if having it’s a by-product of the Arroyo’s enjoyment of the season, then by all means…

But still…

Gil reacts to Malcolm’s hesitation by stepping in close and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a squeeze.

“Kid. It’s fine.” His voice is quiet, not quite low enough the girls won’t be able to hear him, but enough that Malcolm knows it’s meant to help assuage his misgivings alone. “I’ll admit, this time of year is a little more difficult for us, but we want you here. Both of us. Both of you.” His smile is soft and so warm Malcolm’s chest aches. “Besides, between you and me, I’m a little worried if I don’t have another adult here the whole house is going to look like the eight year old did it herself.”

That startles a laugh out of Malcolm. “It’s cute that you think that even the two of us could override the two of them when it comes to glitter and shiny baubles.”

“Is that a yes?”

Deep in his heart, Malcolm never wanted to say no.

“Absolutely.”

  
  


On his walk home, Malcolm is lost in his thoughts. 

Christmas has always been performative for him. Well, after a certain point in his life, of course.

Before…

Before he poked his nose into things.

Before he turned his family’s life on its head.

Before Martin was arrested.

Dr. Whitly had always made sure that despite the inherent over-commercialized consumerism that goes hand in hand with the lavish lifestyle they led that the holidays had been a special time. Story time by the fire, a special tree that his mother’s professionals didn’t get to touch in a smaller living space in their home, carols, Christmas magic - it had all been over the top and like living in a fantasy land. His whole life had been, really. 

But after the magic was broken, after the fantasy had become a horror story, the holidays became a time to prove to the world they were still normal. They were survivors. Jessica made sure their house was immaculate as always - but there were no more songs, no more stories, no more Christmas miracles. Put on the nice sweater, smile and be polite at the Christmas parties no one really came to any longer. Open your presents and try and pretend that nothing has changed.

It only got worse as he got older.

For the first few years after he left home he didn’t even bother celebrating.

Then there was CJ.

And  _ everything  _ changed.

He forced himself to find a regular, twice a week at first, therapist. They figured out which medications were necessary and safe enough to keep taking while he was carrying her, and what he would need to go back on right after she was born. They worked through his trauma. They figured out how to deal with his night terrors in a healthy way. It just wouldn’t do to tie himself to bed every night when he needed to be able to care for an infant entirely on his own at a moment's notice. 

Birthdays and Holidays became important again. He bought little pieces to decorate with here and there. They got a small Christmas tree and one of his favorite pictures is her at 8 months old sitting up and staring in awe at the shiny lights on the fake fir that’s twice as tall as she was. 

Christmas morning on her second Christmas, she cried for three hours because her Alpha father had left the day before and she couldn’t find him.

It only got worse after that.

Malcolm only blames himself, of course. The Alpha keeps swinging back around and doing what he thinks he’s ‘supposed to do’ around the holidays… showering his little girl in gifts, having a few days where he takes her out to do all the holiday things - skating, shopping, seeing all the pretty lights. Worst of all, completely unrelated to the holiday, he always managed to get Malcolm into his bed. 

And then he’d vanish again.

Throughout the year, there was always the possibility that he’d show up at random moments, but _every Christmas_ , without fail, he came around. 

Malcolm had thought, and begun to hope, that the previous Christmas when he put everything on the table for him, that his presence then immediate absence was killing his little girl’s spirit, that they were fine without him and could he please -  _ please - _ stop doing this to them, that maybe he had gotten through. For the entire year it had been radio silence until the text the other day. 

The other problem is that Malcolm has no legal standing to force the issue. He could probably take him to court and fight for his right to keep CJ away from him. But while Omega parental rights have come a long way in the last couple decades, Malcolm has a massive black mark against him being a ‘fit parent’ in the shape of one Dr. Martin Whitly. 

But maybe Christmas with the Arroyos could be something different for her. 

Gil isn’t going anywhere. He’s solid and stable and even as a close friend would never even dream of ghosting on either of them. They’ve opened their home to Malcolm and CJ and even putting his own feelings aside for the Alpha, it will be good for CJ to have another adult in her life who is a genuinely good, honest human being. 

It will be difficult, not to keep falling deeper into his own feelings for Gil if they do this, though. There are already moments he has to remind himself that they  _ aren’t  _ a family when Gil is around them. The way he listens to CJ, how he seems genuinely interested in every little thing she has to say - and she always has a lot to say - makes Malcolm wish  _ he  _ was better at it. Then there are the things he does and says when the kids aren’t around, comments about what CJ might like, telling the team about something she had done that he was so proud of in the same exact tone of voice that he uses for Lizzy. 

Malcolm  _ wants  _ and he can’t have and it’s going to crush him sooner or later.

A block before his apartment building, Malcolm’s phone buzzes.

Vijay is calling him.

With a roll of his eyes Malcolm ignores the call and sticks it back in his pocket. He really  _ really _ doesn’t want to deal with the Alpha right now.

Unfortunately, the world has never bothered to ask what Malcolm fucking wants.

“Baby boy!”

Leaning against one of the columns outside of his building, Vijay smiles big and bright the moment Malcolm rounds the corner. 

“Fuck.” 

Malcolm doesn’t even bother keeping his curse to himself. 

“Tell me you haven’t been standing out here all afternoon.” The sun is hanging low in the sky and casts a warm glow around the Alpha, softening his gaze, lighting up his face and, worst of all, reminding Malcolm why he’d kept falling back into his gravity over and over again despite desperately trying to keep himself away. 

“Got here one minute ago and called to tell you to let me up. You know, the call you ignored just now.” He steps in close and Malcolm takes a step back. 

Thankfully, Vijay doesn’t follow.

“Good, maybe you can catch the car you used to get here before it gets too far.” He tries to step around the other man, but Vijay cuts him off, forcing Malcolm to take another step back so they aren’t too close. 

“I just want to see Rissa,” he says quietly. If Malcolm hadn’t known him for sixteen years he would have called the tone in his voice earnest, underlined by the easy smile and crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

Good thing he knows better.

“That’s not her name.” Malcolm has officially lost count of the number of times he’s said that to the man in front of him.

Vijay rolls his eyes with a scoff but is still smiling, that condescending little way of his that the Alpha thinks is cute. “Clarissa, then,” he amends like he’s humoring him.

“It’s CJ.  _ CJ _ . Every time I tell you and every time you refuse to acknowledge it. She’s even told you several times.” By the time Malcolm had come out of his epidural and endorphin fueled haze of childbirth, Vijay had already given the nurses the name he’d wanted for her and Malcolm couldn’t do anything to change it. Despite not getting a final say in her name, Malcolm had never said a word about not liking it to his little girl. Oh, he’d used cute little nicknames and her middle name for the most part but about a month after one of Vijay’s visits she had begged Malcolm to call her CJ and never tell anyone her whole name ever again. 

And when Malcolm makes a promise to his little girl, he will end the world before breaking it.

“She’s a little kid,” Vijay points out ever so helpfully.

He wants to say ‘so are you’ but doesn’t, pressing his lips together in a firm line for a moment before taking a deep breath. “She has a mind of her own and you’ll respect it.”

“Look, it’s Christmas and I want to see my little girl. I stayed away all year like you made a fuss about and I miss her.”

Malcolm gapes. There is no way on earth Vijay is that thick. He’s ivy league educated and while he knows that doesn’t always mean anything, he knows Vijay is quick, sly, witty, intelligent. Sometimes he just seems…  _ selective _ in his understanding of the world.

“I…. Vijay! I didn’t make a fuss about you staying away!” He starts shouting but quickly drops his voice so they don’t garner an audience. “I told you to stop  _ coming and going  _ like she didn’t matter. And showing up like this when I know you’re just going to vanish again when you’ve got your fill of pretending to be a dad is exactly what I was fucking talking about.”

Vijay rolls his eyes. “I’m not pretending. I am her dad.”

“And yet you seem to forget that for eleven months out of the year.”

“I never forget that. I think about her all the time. And you, of course.” Vijay takes another step, and Malcolm takes another one back. He  _ hates  _ himself for how small of a step it is this time, however. Even spitting mad with the Alpha, he can never make himself just fucking  _ stop.  _ “Think about you a lot, actually, baby boy.”

“Vijay, please…”

“So where is she?”

“At a friend’s house having a sleepover.”

With his next step forward Malcolm is officially out of room to escape, back pressed up against the wall. Thankfully, he doesn’t feel caged or unsafe, just really,  _ really, _ pissed the fuck off. Vijay smirks and reaches up to stroke the soft spot just behind Malcolm’s ear that has historically been an ‘on’ button between them. 

“That sounds like you’ve got an entire night free, baby boy.” His voice drops dangerously low and dozens of images of moments just like this flash through Malcolm’s memories. When they first fell into bed together their senior year. When they kept falling into bed over and over again after that, despite barely keeping up with each other as friends let alone having anything resembling a serious romantic relationship. Weekends and summer vacations, celebrating the end of both of their final exams each semester through college. 

The night their condom broke and changed Malcolm’s life.

Last Christmas.

There’s an uncontrollable heat in his gaze and a tremor in his voice that Malcolm is surprised to hear. His scent is just as thick and tempting as it has always been. Dark and woodsy, cedar and damp fresh cut grass. It’s  _ intoxicating  _ and Malcolm’s eyes flutter closed, Vijay’s breath hot and damp across his lips.

“No,” Malcolm whispers between them. He can’t go anywhere, can’t escape, but he forces his eyes open and brings his hand up. Thankfully, as  _ persistent  _ as the Alpha has always been, he's never once crossed into pushy or forcing when it came to their physical relationship and he backs off. Not quite far enough for Malcolm’s pulse rate to return to normal by taking his scent and the heat of his existence fully away, but enough that Malcolm can breathe again. 

They can’t do this.

Not any more.

Malcolm can’t keep doing this to himself or to CJ.

He’s almost caught speechless as Vijay actually takes another step back and seems to deflate. 

“I still want to see Ris... CJ,” he amends quickly.

The complete change in Vijay’s demeanor nearly shocks Malcolm into silence. There is no more false, exaggerated charisma. His eyes are almost sad and his smile has completely vanished. Even his voice has gone softer.

And he even corrected  _ himself  _ on CJ’s name.

Malcolm can’t believe he’s about to say this.

“If she wants to see you, then fine.” His voice is still harsh, not willing to give Vijay the idea that he’s not holding on to his own boundaries - however desperately. “But don’t be surprised if she says no.” 

“You don’t have to ask her. You’re her parent. You can just - “

“And you  _ aren’t.  _ Which is abundantly clear by the fact you’re even saying that. I will not force  _ my  _ daughter to see someone she doesn’t want to. And if you don’t like it you can take it up with the courts. Which we both know you’ll never do.” Because as shitty of a father Vijay has turned out to be, he’s not actually a terrible human being. He just… never grew up. And they both know that. 

“Alright. Yeah. Fine. Just… let me know?”

Malcolm gives him that much, though he really,  _ really,  _ should know better.

  
  



	4. Christmas Caper

## 

##  Chapter Three

_ Christmas Caper _

It’s a fact of life that when Gil makes plans to leave work early, a new case will land in his lap.

True to form, the moment he sits down at his desk JT comes through the office door with a folder in his hands.

“Can I at least have my coffee first?”

“No can do, boss man. The 403 just sent this over. Santa apparently has a side gig as an art thief.”

He tosses the file in front of Gil, who doesn’t break eye contact as he pointedly takes a sip from his steaming mug before flipping it open. Inside is a report dated the day after Thanksgiving and as Gil reads, JT explains.

“First case was theirs. Charity function at a private home in Upper Manhattan. Turns out, the original guy they hired got slipped something in his morning coffee to knock him out and the thief showed up instead. Did a bang up job as the big guy, even had a fancy suit. Slipped a million dollar Rothko original in his bag of goodies and replaced it with a print during one of his breaks. Owners noticed it was wrong the next morning and reported. Now yesterday, same situation. Hired Santa, party at a private residence, $750k Worhol piece missing this morning. Unis are tracking down the guy that was supposed to be there, but if this is the same thief, chances are he’s still recovering from however he got taken out of the picture.”

Their entire morning is spent at the crime scene, gathering statements and information. There are several leads to follow up on, but the problem is that there are no fingerprints - because Santa wore gloves - and no good descriptions of him. Just like at the last scene, no one could claim much more than seeing an ‘authentic looking santa in a nice suit.’ They are convinced it’s the same guy, however, especially after the man who was supposed to have shown up is found recovering in an ER from the same apparent symptoms of the first victim. 

The cherry on top is that it’s a little difficult to put out a BOLO on a fat man in a red suit in the middle of December.

However, there is one detail that he picks up on that’s a long shot, but it’s the best lead he’s got for the moment. 

It’s just a couple hours past lunch and if the last thing he needs to do doesn’t take too terribly long, they’ll make it to pick up Lizzy and CJ right on time, or no more than a few minutes late.

“I need to do one last interview before I pick up the girls,” he tells Malcolm, who is sitting in front of a closed up stack of files with Dani, at her desk. “It looks like you and Dani are pretty much finished up?”

“Isn’t that for your art theft?” Malcolm asks. He raises his brows and leans back in his chair with a smile. “I’m more of a strictly murder and mayhem kind of consultant. But I do know a guy.”

“FBI?” Dani smirks.

“Tangentially. And there is that whole pesky criminal record thing of his.”

She rolls her eyes with an amused grin. “Of course.”

Gill shakes his head, smiling at Malcolm and feeling a subtle hint of warmth in his chest. “I think JT and I can handle it, kid. But it is on the way. And besides, who passes up the chance to interrogate Santa Claus?”

Malcolm grabs his coat from the back of the chair and stands. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Can I go?” Dani asks while looking like she’s holding back a laugh. “I’d love to ask him why I didn’t get that Razor Scooter when I was nine.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it to him,” Gil assures her over his shoulder as he and Malcolm finally head out.

Traffic is thankfully thin enough in the middle of the afternoon that the two of them make it to The Workshop fairly quickly. The ride is silent for the most part, but it’s a comfortable silence and Gil is always glad for Malcolm’s company. 

Inside the store is also somewhat quiet and much more subdued than it had been last time they were here. Far fewer shoppers fill the aisles. Gil and Malcolm flag down the first elf employee they can find, making quick introductions while Gil flashes his badge. 

She’s got a short bob poking out under the soft looking pine green hat and  _ glitter  _ on her plump, rosy cheeks. 

“We were hoping your boss was in?” Gil asks, making sure he keeps his face as soft and open as possible. They’re here for a lead and it’s never a good idea to play the tough guy cop with people from whom you just need information.

“Bernard?” The young blonde woman asks, brows furrowed. 

Malcolm mouths the name at Gil who shakes his head. “No. The owner. I met him the other day, I believe he said his name was Nicholas?”

Cindy - her badge says - breaks into shock, eyes going wide and mouth forming a narrow ‘o’. “You want the big guy. Um, well…” she looks down and strokes her lips for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know if he’s  _ in  _ per say. But I can find out if he’s available. Wait right here!”

Before either of them can ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean she spins quietly on her heels and all but skips off down the aisle. 

“This is weird, right?” Malcolm asks. 

“Maybe they’re just paid really,  _ really,  _ well to stay in character no matter what.” 

Malcolm laughs, shaking his head and Gil is a little surprised to find he can’t stop looking at how that simple act lights up his face. The second the younger man looks back up though, he forces himself to look away.

“On a somewhat related topic, you know what you’re getting Lizzy for Christmas yet?” 

Gil sighs. “She’s got a bunch of little things wrapped up in the top of my closet but I haven’t figured out her Santa gift yet. We always used to take her to the one they do at Mazzo’s on sixth, because there’s a sneaky little microphone attached to Santa’s chair they let you listen in on so you can figure out what the kids are asking for. Served us well for a few years.” He hadn’t made it there the previous Christmas, and he’s hesitated bringing it up with Lizzy in case it brings up too many memories. But he really needs to get around to it. “What about you?”

“Well, I had some ideas. But someone gets too spoiled by her grandmother and she’s already gotten most of the things I’d been hoping to do throughout the year. Plus her other dad...” Malcolm’s words drop off and he flinches, like he’s worried he said too much.

Gil rather pointedly ignores that last part. “Jessica’s never passed up an opportunity to buy something shiny. That’s probably where CJ gets it from.” 

“You’re telling me. But that makes it kind of difficult to know I’m getting her something unique and make it actually special.” He looks like he’s trying to hide how frustrated he is over the whole idea and Gil reaches out to grab him by the shoulder to say something reassuring.

“Gentlemen!” Cindy returns as if from out of nowhere and both Malcolm and Gil flinch ever so slightly. “Follow me, please, and I’ll take you to see Mr. Nicholas!”

The three of them make their way to the back of the toy section and off to the left. There’s a large wooden and intricately carved arch that leads into a clothing section. Malcolm leans in and whispers as they walk through, “That’s just carved foam painted really well, right?”

Gil has no idea. Nothing in this place makes much sense but he’s not here to scrutinize the decor. 

When they had been here with the girls, there hadn’t been a reason to come back this way. It’s much smaller than any other part of the store, but, he knows he’s in the right place. There’s not a stitch of cheap polyester or acrylic fur in sight. There’s a wall lined in many different sizes and styles of leather boots in different shades of black and brown. Some look like they could actually help you survive in the frozen north while others are obviously built more for the aesthetic than anything else. Another wall displays a wide variety of belts, suspenders, buckles, and hats. None of the clothing in the room is anything that could be considered bright. The colors are all rich and deep, even the most simple pieces having some kind of embroidery or woven trim. 

These are not suits for Santas and elves that ring the bells outside of department stores.

These are suits for Santas and elves that are  _ dedicated  _ to their craft.

Or dedicated to making it look like they are.

Off in the corner, in a section that doesn’t look like anything other than another wall panel, Cindy presses an almost invisible latch and pulls.

As the door opens they’re hit with a surprisingly chilly gust of air that smells of pine and snow. The two men share a look before following her up the steps. 

The sound of a crackling log fire hits him just after the cold and they top the stairs to find themselves in a cozy space a little smaller than his office back at the station. It’s bright and cheery from the fire and a large antler chandelier hanging overhead. 

This office is even more Christmas traditional than the rest of the store is. Dark wooden bookshelves line one wall, stacked near to bursting. Thick, deep green curtains with brilliant gold trim are closed in front of the window behind where Nicholas sits in a tall wooden chair lined in velvet with carvings of holly all down the sides. Gil notes there isn’t a computer in sight, the desk covered in rather large ledger looking tomes, one of which is open in the center. 

But there isn’t anything written on the pages.

“Is that… a real wood burning fireplace?” Malcolm asks before anyone else can say anything, moving towards the open flame. “Those were banned in the city in 2015.” The curious tone in his voice reminds Gil of just how baffled Malcolm has been by this entire store since they first came across it.

“Only new installations, Mr. Bright,” Nicholas says from behind his desk with amusement in his voice. “That one is part of the original construction. I assure you.” 

“Thank you for making time to see us,” Gil addresses the man while noting how Malcolm’s fingers trace the woodwork of the mantle. “Especially without any prior notice.”

“Nonsense,” he says. “Come in, have a seat and tell me what I can help you with.”

“Do you need anything Nick?” Cindy asks from the top of the stairs. 

Nicholas looks to both Malcolm and Gil with a smile. “Can we get you gentlemen anything to drink?”

Both of them politely decline and he addresses the young girl over their shoulders. “Thank you, my dear. Please, be sure to leave the door  _ open  _ on your way out.”

As soon as she’s gone, the portly old man faces them fully once more and clasps his hands together over his desk.

“Now, what can I do for you? I seem to recall your little family here a few days past. Made a… small purchase if I remember correctly. I certainly hope everything is okay.”

“Ah, yes,” Malcolm says. “Everything was fine. Unfortunately we’re here on official NYPD business.” Gil tries very hard to ignore the twist in his stomach at how Malcolm doesn’t correct the man’s other assumption.

And he’s not certain how he feels about the fact he hasn’t corrected him yet, himself.

“That is very unfortunate,” Nicholas agrees. “No one has been hurt, I hope.”

“No permanent damage, no,” Gil is quick to assure him. “Nothing that couldn’t be slept off. But there have been a few thefts, and the perpetrator was posing as Santa Claus.”

“That’s atrocious!” Nicholas stands and turns as if to face out of his window but then shakes his head and looks back to where Gil and Malcolm are still sitting on the other side of his desk. Honestly, Gil isn’t surprised by the reactions. “I’ll help anyway I can but I doubt how much I’ll be able to. You know as well as I do how many Santas roam the streets this time of year.”

“We’re well aware.” Malcolm assures him. 

Gil notes the way Malcolm’s eyes are still taking in every little detail of not only the room they’ve found themselves in, but the reactions and mannerisms of the man in front of them. 

He’s building a profile, and the crease between his brows tells Gil it’s either an elusive one, or a baffling one. 

“The thief was extremely well dressed,” Gil says, making sure to refocus on the reason for their visit. “Many witnesses commented on the costume he wore. How it seemed more high end and had details you don’t usually find in your run of the mill santa costumes. Given your selection and attention to detail in your merchandise we were hoping you would either have something like this, either now or in the past, or would maybe recognize it at the very least.” Someone who owns such a specialized boutique as The Workshop is sure to know exactly what his competition is doing at all times. If there is even any competition out there. It seems to GIl like it would be a rather niche market and for all he knows this guy has a monopoly on bespoke Santa Costumes. 

He hands over a sketch of the embroidery work from the suspect's coat that was compiled from a few witnesses at both scenes that wound up passing as accurate more often than not. 

The second Nicholas has the piece of paper in his hands his face falls. “Well, you’re in luck,” he says with a note of regret. “This was a design I sold for many years.”

“Sold?” Gil asks. “As in past tense?”

“It wasn’t that long ago I updated the design, mind you. Maybe, five or six years?”

“Do you sell many of your suits each year?

“Likely more than you think but still not enough that you’ve come here on a wild goose chase.” He moves towards the bookshelves, fingers dragging over several old leather spines before seeming to find the one he wants and pulling it off the shelf. “While it is entirely possible your thief picked it up second hand, my suits are quite expensive and more often than not become family heirlooms.” For a moment he falls silent, flipping through a few tabs in the ledger in his hand and skimming the pages before finally stopping. “Ah ha! Here it is.”

Nicholas lays the book out on the desk just in front of Gil and Malcolm, pointing to the image of a suit painted on the left sides and sketches of over a dozen tiny details surrounding it. On the right page is an item number and the first entry with measurements, special requests, a name and address. 

“Do you keep a list of every suit you sold and who you sold it to?” Malcolm asks, bewildered.

“I keep many, many lists, Mr. Bright.” He responds with a wink. 

Gil isn’t really paying attention to them, however. Instead, he flips through the pages very slowly. Most of these are in the greater metropolitan area. Some are from much further away, however. But thankfully, the list doesn’t seem to go on forever. 

“May I make a copy of this somewhere?”

“I’m afraid I don’t own a copier of any sort.”

“That’s alright. I can take pictures with my phone.”

“Be my guest.”

Gil takes his phone from his pocket and notes in passing that he doesn’t have any signal in here. But since he doesn’t actually need that to take pictures, it doesn’t really matter at the moment. He will send them to JT when they get back outside. 

While he works Malcolm asks Nicholas a few questions about his shop and how they got things set up, where they got the materials and work done. Nicholas seems happy to talk about it but simultaneously evasive in that he never really gives complete answers. 

“I think that will give us something to start with,” Gil says, turning off the screen and repocketing his phone. They both stand and thank the old man with quick handshakes and he walks them the short distance back to the stairs that lead out of the office. 

"You tell those two little girls of yours they've been extra good,” Nicholas says with another wide smile. “And Santa is looking forward to making sure they get a special treat this year."

Gil freezes. "I…"

"Were not…” Malcolm seems just as lost as to how to correct him. Which is odd.

He gives them both a curious, amused look and Gil sighs. “We aren’t together. Just good friends. As are our girls.” Gil is surprised that he has to fight to get the words out, even though they’re the one hundred percent honest truth. 

Nicholas looks to Malcolm first, grin faltering. 

Malcolm seems to be very interested in his own feet. 

“I see. My apologies, gentlemen.” Nicholas looks almost  _ sad  _ and Gil has to purposely hide his own surprise at that. “I sincerely hope you all have a very magical Christmas.”

They say their thanks and move to leave.

Gil takes a single step down, then stops, turning around. “I almost forgot!” He looks back to Nicholas and can’t believe he’s about to ask this, but wants to be able to have something to tell Dani and figures the guy is fun enough to play along. “One of my detectives wanted to know why you didn’t get her that Razor Scooter she asked for when she was eight.”

“Nine,” Malcolm corrects before covering his amusement with his hand. 

“Right, nine.”

Nicholas rubs at his beard for a moment then holds a finger up with a silent ‘ah ha’ on his lips and laughs. “You can tell her it’s because all she wanted it for was so she could terrorize her siblings.” 

Gil and Malcolm share an amused look, Malcolm eventually shrugging with a shake of his head. 

The moment they step through the door back into the clothing section of The Workshop Gil feels the temperature difference even more acutely than he had on the way up. The smell of snow and pine is replaced with cinnamon and a feeling of cozy warmth. 

“You ever leave a place and have more questions than you went in with?” Malcolm asks him the moment they’re standing back out on the sidewalk. He’s staring up at the building with an intensity in his gaze that Gil normally only sees on him at a crime scene when he’s looking for all the puzzle pieces he needs to fit together.

With a clasp on the shoulder and a gentle nudge in the direction they need to be going, Gil chuckles.

“Kid, I’ve been a cop for over twenty-five years. It’s part of the job description.” 

Back in the Le Mans on the way to pick up the girls, whatever had been building up in Malcolm’s brain about The Workshop finally bursts free and he can’t seem to stop talking about all the inconsistencies and things that don’t add up. The store going in so quickly, additions that shouldn’t have passed code, mannerisms from Nicholas and his employees, details that seem incredibly real and should have cost way more than any sane person would spend on a store that only exists for a couple months out of the whole year.

Gil can’t help but pick on him for trying to profile Santa Claus.

Though, to his credit, Malcolm points out that Gil is specifically  _ looking  _ for a suspect that dresses like the man. 

An hour after their interview at The Workshop, everything about the case and work in general is set aside so Gil can focus on the extremely important task of picking out the ‘best Christmas tree they've ever had.’ (That was Lizzy’s demand and he’s not about to deny her.)

“This place is huge,” Malcolm whistles as the four of them step onto the tree lot. 

Rows and rows of different types, shapes and sizes of firs spread out in every direction with a few scotch pines and spruce trees sprinkled in here and there. Sparkling white fairy lights hang overhead, illuminating the whole area in a soft glow. The sun has only just dipped past the horizon and a chill is quickly setting in. Almost hidden by the overwhelming scent of all the fresh trees, Gil can smell a hint of snow coming on the air. 

“Maybe we should split up,” he suggests. “Divide and conquer. Each team can pick three of their favorites and we’ll all compare and pick one from there?”

“I’ll go with Malcolm!” Lizzy shouts before anyone else can respond, latching on to the man’s hand. CJ doesn’t say anything but easily steps over to Gil’s side with a big grin and sharp nod of her head.

Gil frowns down at his little girl, but Malcolm nods with a hum of agreement. “Makes sense. It’s going in your house, it’s only logical that you two get the real say in selection.” 

They make a plan, and set a time limit, and a few minutes later, Gil and CJ are heading off in the opposite direction of Malcolm and Lizzy.

“Do you have a favorite type of tree?” He asks the little girl as they make their way through the aisles, hand in gloved hand. 

“Not really. I don’t think we’ve ever had a real tree,” she says matter of factly. There’s no disappointment in her voice and Gil isn’t sure that’s a  _ good  _ thing. 

“Really?”

CJ nods. “Grandma does. But I’m not supposed to get too close to those because i’ll break things.”

Gil pauses at a tree that’s nice and round at the bottom, thick. It wouldn’t have much room within the branches for ornaments but there’s plenty of surface area on the outside. “Trees should be touched and played around,” he informs her, reaching out to brush the bright green needles as if in example. 

“Really?” CJ shakes her head and tugs on Gil’s hand to move on from that one. 

“Really. I bet your dad would agree with me.”

“Maybe.” CJ silently dismisses two more trees that Gil stops to inspect before speaking again. “How long have you known my daddy?”

“A very long time.” Twenty years. From the lowest point in Malcolm’s life to where he is now. It’s been a crazy couple decades but he’s so happy with how far the kid has come, and with how amazing of a little girl he has raised all on his own. 

“I know yesterday he said he can’t cook,” she says seemingly out of no where. But he’s tried to follow Lizzy’s trains of thoughts long enough to know better than to put too much effort into it. “But he really can.” 

Gil wonders where this conversation is going, but doesn’t question it out loud. Instead, he glances down with a smile and an encouraging, “Oh yeah?”

“Yup.” CJ nods, a few strands of her dark hair escaping the knit woolen hat keeping her head warm. “And not just Macaroni. He can make spaghetti, and waffles with silly faces, and tacos, and no one makes better grilled cheese.”

“How many people have made you grilled cheese?” 

“A few.”

Gil stops and turns to face her, deciding to challenge her assumption head on. Though they both protest, he drops down to one knee and looks straight into her eyes in a playfully challenging way. “Have you had mine?”

“No?”

“Then how do you know his is better?” He pokes her on the chest which elicits a quick giggle. 

“I just do, silly. Just like I know he’s the best daddy. Because he listens to me no matter how long i talk and he gives better hugs than anyone else ever and even if you get mad at him and yell at him he never, ever yells back.”

Warmth spreads through Gil’s chest at the earnest honesty in CJ’s proclamation. “He does sound like the best daddy. I can’t really find any holes in your argument, there.”

For the next quarter of an hour, between finding possible winners and CJ summarily dismissing every single one of them she continues to talk about just how wonderful Malcolm really is. The smile on Gil’s face is so wide and lasts so long his cheeks start to ache from it. 

At some point, it starts to snow.

It’s a gentle dusting for now, melting the moment it hits the ground and sliding easily off the needles of all the trees they’re surrounded by.

But CJ’s giggle when the first flake hits her nose is bright and wonderful.

In the end, they only find one that  _ might  _ work for CJ’s standards but Gil’s got a few in the back of his mind that would look truly wonderful in his living room.

Gil and CJ make it back to the center of the lot quicker than he’d expected them to, but they aren’t first.

No, Malcolm and Lizzy are already there.

And the sight takes Gil’s breath away.

Malcolm is kneeling down next to Lizzy with one arm curled around her middle, the other raised. Their faces are tilted towards the sky, snowflakes sparkling on their lashes, eyes illuminated in a warm glow by the small, soft lights overhead as they laugh and try to catch the falling snowflakes on their tongues that Malcolm points out as they pass by. 

Lizzy looks  _ happy  _ and her laughter is brighter and more full than he’s heard in two years.

And Malcolm…

Well, fuck, Malcolm looks  _ beautiful.  _

And Gil has absolutely no clue what to do with that revelation.

He tries to swallow the lump in his throat and when he can’t, makes a slight coughing noise instead.

Both Malcolm and Lizzy look at him with brilliant smiles, eyes glistening in the light and Gil’s chest  _ twists.  _

“You find any contenders?” He asks, ignoring how breathless his own voice sounds.

Gil swears his heart stops at the way Malcolm’s smile grows even wider. “I think we found the perfect one.”

  
  



	5. O' Christmas Tree

## 

## Chapter Four

_O’ Christmas Tree_

  
  


By the time they make it back to the Arroyo house, Malcolm’s heart has almost recovered from his time with Lizzy, and seeing Gil and CJ together at the tree lot. 

Which is good, because he has a very strong suspicion it’s about to get squeezed to death even worse over the next couple of hours. 

Their house is almost completely decorated already. Apparently the three of them had gotten a head start during Lizzy and CJ’s sleepover the night before. While Gil had put out the lights on the outside of the house just after their office Thanksgiving dinner, the rest hadn’t been touched just twenty-four hours earlier. 

Now, it’s covered.

And in validation of Gil’s worry about being left on his own with the two little terrors, it _absolutely_ looks like 7 and 8 year old children made every last decision at every point and Gil had just been there for any heavy lifting. Nothing matches. Wreaths of clashing colors hang not just on the front door and windows but at various spots throughout the house. The Christmas village on the center of the kitchen table has dinosaurs attacking it. Hand cut out snowflakes hang throughout the hall. The nativity scene on the mantle has a lego man in the manger. 

Malcolm loves every last inch of it.

While Gil gets the tree set up in the only empty space in the living room, Malcolm turns off towards the kitchen to get started on the hot cocoa, pulling out the milk, heavy cream, chocolate, sugar, marshmallows, and whipped cream. 

Gil had mentioned picking up some Swiss Miss but Malcolm had to put his foot down when it came to hot chocolate. It is to be done right, or not done at all. 

At some point while he’s whisking the chocolate shavings into the mixture of milk, cream, and sugar, Christmas music begins filling up the space along with bright laughter, both from the girls and Gil.

Malcolm smiles, lip trembling, and takes a deep breath.

Decorating a Christmas tree with two little girls under the age of ten hopped up on the holiday spirit in _sugar_ turns out to be an experience.

An amazing experience.

And one Malcolm knows he is never, ever, going to forget.

The tree they had picked out wasn’t as full bodied as some of the others had been. But as Lizzy had very intelligently pointed out, that left lots of room for lights and ornaments. She had picked it for that, and for the deep, full green color.

There seems to be a never ending supply of lights to wrap around the branches. After they’ve covered the entire thing, tip to base, in twinkling white lights, Gil and Malcolm are instructed that they must now add the rainbow lights. 

Though they protest, somehow, they are overridden and on the rainbow lights go.

Once that is complete, come the ornaments. There’s a collection of plastic shatterproof ones of various shapes, sizes, and colors that go first. (Malcolm marvels at how many of them are covered in glitter… that flakes off far too easily.) CJ is much pickier than the rest of them about how they _must absolutely be spread out_. Two identical ornaments can’t be within viewing distance of each other. Or even, apparently, on the same general row of branches. Lizzy is quick to become her second in command, sneakily allowing a few close calls to slip by but otherwise calling both Gil and Malcolm out when they put something in the obviously wrong place. 

The homemade ornaments come next, Lizzy happily telling story after story about each one. What grade she was in when she made it, or why she did something a specific way. Her smile becomes sad when she talks about the ones she made with her mother but she puts them up anyway and keeps going after a kiss and tight squeeze of a hug from Gil. 

Malcolm is sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Gil, finishing off the last of his second mug of hot chocolate while CJ is placing tinsel one strand at a time on every other branch when Lizzy lets an empty box drop to the ground with a frustrated huff. 

“Daddy, where is the star?”

The smile on Gil’s face vanishes, features twisted in a flash of grief that he forces away just as quickly as it came. 

With his eyes closed, he takes a deep breath, then forces out an obviously exaggerated tone of surprise. “It’s not out here? I must have left it in the attic!”

“Well go get it, silly,” she says after turning around and staring at him with hands on her hips. She looks so much like Jackie in that moment, Malcolm is surprised Gil doesn’t break down right then and there.

Without looking away from her very meticulous tinsel hanging, CJ adds matter-of-factly, “You can’t have a tree without a star.”

When Gil doesn’t move or say anything at all for a long time, Malcolm stands and offers him a hand to help him up. “Tell you what, Lizzy. Why don’t you girls finish up that tinsel and me and your dad will go grab the star. I’ll make sure he doesn’t lose it. Sound good?”

In a bit of a daze that he’s obviously doing his best to hide from his daughter, Gil stands and nods, leading the way out of the living room and towards the hallway stairs. 

They go up to the disappearing sounds of CJ and Lizzy arguing about the merits of placing tinsel individually vs tossing it in massive clumps.

Malcolm doesn’t say a single word until Gil has lowered the attic ladder and they’re both in the dark, cramped space and Gil doesn’t make a move to go any further in. 

He’s never experienced a loss as complete and devastating as Gil has, so he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t even know where to begin. But he knows he has to say something. “I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and assume you didn’t bring the star down with everything else on purpose?”

Gil swallows and nods, eyes already glistening in unshed tears. “The artificial tree we got the year we were married, a box of ornaments I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to look at, and the star. They all stayed up here. I meant to pick up a replacement before we set up the tree but I guess I forgot.” 

Or maybe he didn’t really want to. And that’s okay.

“We could tell them we couldn’t find it? That you’ll pick up something new tomorrow?” He offers quietly.

“No,” Gil shakes his head. “No, it’s right over here and if Lizzy wants it… _jesus._ ” He finally moves, heading straight into a far corner of the open space and bending over to pick up a flat box. But he doesn’t do anything other than that. Simply holds it while a tear streaks down his cheek, hands shaking.

Malcolm moves to stand in front of him, reaching out to gently tug at the flaps on the box which are held down with old and dirty tape that pops open easily. “Is it an old beloved piece?” 

Gil huffs out a quiet laugh. “It was ten dollars at a second hand store and Jackie picked it because it spun and had sparkling, colorful lights to hold Lizzy’s attention when she was an infant.” Once the box is open, he moves to stroke the cheap plastic and fading silvery streamers that come off it so Malcolm makes sure to help him support the box. “Lizzy and I always put it up while Jackie took the picture. It’s such a ridiculous thing to get upset over when there’s so much...”

“No, no no no, Gil.” He reaches up and swipes a thumb across Gil’s cheek before he can stop himself. “If there is anything I have learned after a lifetime of intense therapy it’s that you should never set aside how something makes you feel just because you don’t think it should.” 

“I’m so fucking thankful for you, kid.” Gil’s voice is a bit cracked and extra quiet. “I don’t know how I would be getting through this right now without you.”

Malcolm’s chest aches and he bites his lip. “I would do anything for you and Lizzy, Gil.”

Without warning, Malcolm finds himself wrapped up in a crushing hug, the box that had been between them set aside. It only takes him a moment to return the embrace and he can’t help but inhale deeply as his face is pressed close against the older man’s shoulder. His entire body relaxes into the warmth and comfort of the achingly familiar scent so close and everywhere all at once. 

“You know it’s the same for me with you and CJ, right?” He speaks quietly, without letting go, and all Malcolm can do is nod. He knows. 

He’s always known.

It’s one of the biggest reasons he loves this man so much.

Malcolm forces himself to pull away before he can go too far down that path. He holds Gil by the arms and makes himself look as calm as he can manage in the moment. “We should go ask the girls what _they_ want to do. Who should put it up. They’re the foremen of this operation, after all,” he points out with a small smile. 

Though Gil nods, they still take a couple more minutes so that he can pull himself back together before descending the stairs to head back into the construction zone.

“Lizzy.”

At Gil’s voice, the girls’ giggling dies down, though not completely, and they turn to look at their parents. Gil holds up the star and wiggles it a little bit. “How are we getting this up there this year?” 

She thinks it over for a moment, hand on her chin just like Gil does sometimes, and then seems to come to a decision.

“CJ needs to do it.”

That obviously surprises Gil and Malcolm watches as the man swallows heavily but nods. His smile is shaky, but still genuine. “Are you sure?”

“Yup! She’s never done it!”

“Seriously?” Gil turns to look at Malcolm with his mouth ajar, and Malcolm shrugs.

“It’s not like we’ve never done _any_ of this,” he says defensively, gesturing to the tree and all the empty boxes littered throughout the living room. 

Gil shakes his head and Malcolm _knows_ he’s being judged. But nothing else is said to him. Instead, Gil drops to a knee in front CJ and holds the star out between them. “CJ Bright. This is the most important part of all of the decorations in the whole entire house. Can I entrust this to your capable hands?”

With wide eyes and a very serious set to her mouth, CJ nods and reaches out for the topper, clutching it delicately in her tiny little hands. 

“Good,” Gil says with a wide grin. “Then up we go!” 

Without any further warning he scoops Malcolm’s daughter into his arms and high into the air with a peal of laughter from her and giggles from Lizzy. 

They get to the tree and begin attempting to find the best way to get the star to not only attach, but stay in place. But after a few tries, she slumps in Gil’s arms.

“It won’t stay, the pieces keep popping out before I can get it on.” CJ pouts up at the top of the tree as if it has personally offended her. Though Gil attempts to reach for it as well it becomes quickly apparent that CJ is a little too big to handle one armed and he has to readjust how she sits at his hip.

“We’ll help!” Malcolm holds his arms out for Lizzy who hops into them easily. 

The two of them make it around to the back of the tree where Malcolm carefully holds her as high as he dares. Thankfully, she’s a bit lighter than CJ and it’s easy to get her close enough she can reach up and grasp the top few sprigs and bend them down into a shape that should be thick enough to hold the star nice and snug.

With all their smiles illuminated in a rainbow of sparkling lights and their laughter the melody to a crooning Christmas ballad in the background, Gil, Malcolm, Lizzy, and CJ all work together to put the final touches on all their hard work on the Christmas tree. 

Lizzy plugs it into the closest string of lights and it comes to life, slowly rotating and adding an extra touch of sparkles to the whole room. 

A chorus of cheers go up from all four of them.

“SELFIES!” CJ announces with a clap before either of the girls can get put down. 

Neither he nor Gil are about to argue with that demand so they arrange themselves in front of the tree with the girls between them. Malcolm takes out his phone, promising to send Gil all the pictures he takes (and those he’s been taking most of the night). They take a few simple ones, all smiles and stationary before the girls both start grabbing tinsel from the tree and tossing it in the air, most of which lands in Gil and Malcolm’s hair. 

Malcolm never wants this to end.

“Okay!” Gil says, still out of breath from laughing, as he puts CJ down finally. “You girls start picking up all the leftovers and I’ve got one last thing to put up.” He pulls out a long length of garland wrapped in red and green ribbon and sprigs of holly. “This goes on the light fixture. But I needed someone tall enough to hold the light steady while I start attaching it otherwise it just kind of spins out of control.” He looks Malcolm over head to toe then shrugs. “If you stand on your tip toes maybe you’ll do.”

Apparently that’s the funniest thing the girls have ever heard because they both fold over onto the couch in yet another fit of laughter. 

Or maybe they’re still too giggly from the pictures.

Malcolm just rolls his eyes, ignoring the mirth in Gil’s gaze and the way his chest is silently shaking from his own laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.” 

Gil stands just under the light, garland in hand, waiting patiently. 

The moment Malcolm gets close enough to help he knows this is a terrible idea. 

Neither have moved to reach up yet and Malcolm can already feel that heady Alpha scent filling up his head again. It’s the same as it had been in the attic, leather, vanilla and a hint of cinnamon overpowering his senses. But there it had been completely different, the emotions dark and overwhelming in a way that made him want to be close, to comfort. Now, with the lights and the music, the laughter still filling the air, and the smell of rich chocolate a subtle backdrop, it just makes him _want._

Malcolm does as he’s asked, ignoring the heat already pooling in his gut and trying desperately not to breathe while Gil reaches over his head and begins to fiddle with the clasps at the top of the light fixture. 

They don’t notice how silent it’s gone in the room.

“There. That should do it.” Gil drops his arms first, and when Malcolm does the same he finds they’re somehow even closer so he attempts to take a step back but finds he’s entirely unable to do so.

Gil reaches out and grabs him by the hips before he can topple them both over onto the floor as they have suddenly found themselves wrapped in some of the spare strings of Christmas lights that the girls were _supposed_ to have been cleaning up. 

He sighs.

Everything becomes brighter when one of them plugs the strings into a strand from the tree.

They’re standing here in the middle of the living room, wrapped in Christmas lights, Gil’s hands on his hips, breath warm on his lips, close enough to kiss, and he really, _really, really_ can’t. 

But to Malcolm's immense shock, Gil looks just as dazed as Malcolm suddenly feels. 

For a long time they just stand there, shock and apprehension but _something else_ in their shared gaze, lips parted, oblivious to the laughter surrounding them until Malcolm hears the click of his camera phone and it seems to snap them both out of it. 

“Who’s bright idea was this?” He asks, voice only a little shaky. 

Gil still hasn’t let him go.

Both girls point to each other, the picture of innocence on their sweet faces and that seems to finally completely break the tension between the two men. 

It doesn’t take them long to remove the excess lights and get them put away, the four of them working together to package up what didn’t make the tree all while Malcolm very pointedly avoids any and all contact with Gil. While Gil readies the stack of boxes to take back up to the attic, he tells the girls to pick out a Christmas movie and asks Malcolm to get them all one last mug of chocolate. Though Malcolm asks him where the girls can’t hear if they shouldn’t just head out since it’s rather late, Gil kindly points out that they’ll likely be asleep well before the movie is over. 

So, to top off one of the best nights of Malcolm’s entire life so far, he winds up on the couch with CJ and Lizzy in between he and Gil, wrapped up in thick fleece blankets, sipping on hot cocoa with _extra_ marshmallows and watching The Santa Clause with nothing but the lights from the tree still illuminating the room.

Gil’s face is soft in the twinkling lights from the tree; reds, greens and blues lighting up his features. He seems at peace, occasionally glancing down at the girls with a smile or shifting to help them put their mugs back on the coffee table when they’re tired of holding onto them. It’s not a look he’s seen on the man much since he and CJ moved back to New York. 

And the girls…

The moment they both give up their mugs of cocoa they’re curled up together in a mess of limbs, mostly leaning against Gil, CJ stroking Lizzy’s hair as her eyes begin to slowly droop just a few minutes into the movie.

Both of them still have chocolate mustaches.

Malcolm cannot remember a single time in the last twenty years he felt this warm and content. He is at peace and his chest feels tight with how desperately he wants to hold onto this feeling and never, ever let it go. 

But let it go he must. 

Even if Gil weren’t still obviously grieving, Malcolm would never dare to make his feelings known or even hint at them if he can avoid it at all costs. The man still calls him kid, will likely always see him that way. And then there’s CJ. She’s had enough coming and going of important people in her life just from her Alpha father and Malcolm can’t take any chances that Gil would never feel the same and they’d grow distant. Then it would be entirely Malcolm’s fault she’d lose someone else. 

Just as Gil had said, both girls are fast asleep before they finish the first Christmas night of delivering presents. 

“We should probably head out,” Malcolm offers quietly during a silent moment in the film. 

To Malcolm's surprise, Gil looks like he’s about to put up a protest. For a long, drawn out moment they stare at each other from across the couch, but eventually Gil snaps his deep brown eyes away and he nods. “We definitely wore them out tonight and it’ll be easier to move them now, rather than later when they’re good and truly out of it.” 

As slowly and carefully as they can, they work together to disentangle the girls. There are a few whines of protest, but for the most part, they both go where they’re guided. While Gil takes Lizzy upstairs to her room, Malcolm calls for a car then gets coats, gloves, and hats on both himself and his semi-sleeping daughter. She’s awake enough to help, but the moment he lifts her into his arms, she’s out against his shoulder once more.

Gil comes back down just as Malcolm is slinging her overnight bag over his shoulder and sees them to the door. He kisses CJ on the back of her sleeping head and Malcolm’s heart clenches. “Thank you for joining us, tonight.” He whispers.

“Gil,” Malcolm’s voice cracks. “Thank _you_ for having us. This was… I can’t tell you how amazing this was. For both of us. I…” Gil waves him off, a soft smile on his lips and such caring warmth in his eyes, Malcolm’s knees go weak.

There’s another moment where Malcolm swears Gil wants to say something else, but neither of them do.

Instead, they both nod in silence once more, and Malcolm and CJ slip out into the quiet of the night, snow still falling peacefully all around them. 

  
  


On the way home, Malcolm chooses to focus on everything good, instead of the pain of what he can’t have.

CJ is happy here in New York. She has her Grandmother and Aunt Ainsley and now Lizzy and Gil. Malcolm has Gil too, as a friend, more than the mentor he once was. He has a job he loves and is slowly making friends of his own. Though JT and Dani are a little slow to warm up, he knows they’re getting there. And Edrisa is amazingly fun to be around, even if they aren’t close. Despite the fact that he’s had to interact with Dr. Whitly once or twice since returning, he’s managed to keep up with his promise to himself to do and _be_ better for CJ and hasn’t made a habit of it, even when he was sorely tempted. 

He holds CJ close the entire trip, humming soft Christmas carols to her with a genuinely content smile on his face.

Right until he steps out of the elevator on their floor.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Vijay pushes off from where he’d been leaning against the wall next to their front door with a wide smile. “There you guys are!”

“How the hell did you get up here?” Malcolm whispers, furious, while managing to hold up a finger to his lips to hopefully get Vijay to quiet the fuck down so they won’t wake CJ.

“I have my ways,” he responds, thankfully _also_ finally whispering. “You haven’t let me know an answer so I came to see if I could get one.”

“It’s been twenty-four hours, Vijay. I only saw her again just after lunch today and we’ve been with friends all night. What do you want me to do, ask her if she wants to see the man who always ruins Christmas in front of her friends?”

“That’s not fair,” Vijay’s smile vanishes and he slumps. 

“It’s the truth, and we’re not having this argument out here.”

Vijay nods, gesturing towards the door. “Good, then let’s go inside.”

“No.” Malcolm can’t believe he’s having to do this again, and he’s about ready to pull his hair out. He would call security if he thought it would do any good. “I told you I would let you know what she says and I will. After I ask her.”

“Come on, Malcolm…”

“Daddy?”

Malcolm barely bites back the curse that wants to explode from his lips.

In his arms CJ stirs, shifting her head against his shoulder before trying and failing to settle back in. “Wha’s goin on?” When she lifts her head up there, are red lines on her cheeks from where she’d been pressed against his jacket the whole ride back. “Are we home?”

“Yeah, baby. Go back to sleep and I’ll get you into bed, okay?” He strokes her back, hoping against all hope she’ll do as he says even as he steps carefully around Vijay at an angle she won’t see him as long as she puts her head back down right where it was.

But Malcolm has never in his life been lucky.

Instead she yawns and stretches, looking around before suddenly slumping. 

“Oh.”

Malcolm’s heart plummets.

“Hey, CJ.” Vijay says to her in a soft and surprisingly emotional voice, shocking both her and Malcolm into momentary silence. 

CJ frowns, her little face scrunched up and brows knit close together. Malcolm makes sure not to say anything, letting her work through whatever extra large emotions are going through her head. 

Eventually, she turns back to Malcolm and buries her face in the crook of his neck once more.

“Come on, princess. Aren’t you excited to see your dad?” Vijay reaches for her but Malcolm shifts so she’s a little further away and shakes his head.

“You should go.”

CJ mumbles something and Malcolm jostles her just a little to encourage her to pick her head up and say it again.

“I don’t want him to go,” she whispers, voice shaky, and Malcolm’s heart crumbles. It shouldn’t make him feel better, but Vijay’s obvious confusion is somewhat of a relief. At least he seems to be finally understanding - even if just the tiniest bit - the conflicting emotions going on here for both of them on this side of the hallway. “Please don’t make him go.”

“Alright, baby,” Malcolm assures her with a soothing rub to his little girl’s back. Addressing Vijay, Malcolm adds, “He can stay _for now_.” 

The tension is so tight it could be cut with a butter knife as Malcolm silently tugs the keys from his coat pocket and lets the three of them into his apartment. 

“Do you even have a bag?” He asks quietly, tossing his keys in the bowl just inside the door before starting to rub CJ’s back again. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “In my car. I parked in a garage a couple blocks up. I can go-”

“Get it in the morning,” Malcolm interrupts. “I’m putting her to bed then I’m going to bed and I’m not going to wait up for you or let you back in if you leave tonight because I’m ready to pass out any second now.”

“I can go get it in the morning, absolutely.” 

“And you’re sleeping on the couch.”

The Alpha pouts at that and opens his mouth to object but apparently Malcolm’s look is harsh enough that it silences him immediately and all he does is nod. 

Malcolm doesn’t even bother looking back when he makes his way down the hall towards CJ’s room, quietly shutting the door behind him before he sits her gently on the bed and drops her bag to the ground. She’s obviously quite awake now and simply sits there, letting Malcolm remove her hat and gloves while staring at her door.

“He’s just going to leave again, isn’t he?” 

Malcolm sighs and works on her coat. He should tell her to do it. But he needs the distraction. The quiet moment to think.

“I don’t know, baby. I wish I had a better answer for you.” She does finally start moving once her coat is gone, limbs stiff and gaze vacant as she slides off the bed and moves to change into a warm set of flannel pjs. Malcolm sits on the edge of the bed and waits for her. When she’s done, instead of crawling in under the covers, she goes straight to Malcolm and curls up in his lap where he holds her as tightly as he can. 

“Will Lizzy and Gil leave, too?”

Malcolm could _strangle_ Vijay.

“Never,” he chokes out. “Not a chance. They both love you so much.”

When CJ starts shaking and she sobs, Malcolm flinches. That was absolutely the wrong thing to say.

“Does dad love me?”

It takes Malcolm longer than he’d like to admit to come up with an answer. He knows Vijay cares about her or he wouldn’t keep showing up like he does. He wouldn't put in whatever token effort the man thinks is sufficient to _prove_ it. 

“He does,” Malcolm assures her and kisses the top of her head. “That much I can promise you. But I don’t think he knows how to show it in the best way, and he doesn’t exactly know how to be a dad, either.”

CJ looks up at him then, sniffs, and has the tiniest light of hope in his eyes. “Maybe Gil can teach him. He knows how.”

God, does he ever. “You’re right. Gil knows how to be a _great_ dad. But, sometimes, some people take a little longer to figure it out.”

“I wish he’d hurry up.” CJ swipes her arm across her tear streaked and slightly snotty face, making Malcolm sigh with a soft smile. He grabs a kleenex from the box they keep next to her bed and wipes down her face and the sleeve of her pjs. 

“Come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s get you under the covers and off to sleep. You’ve had a long couple of days.”

CJ goes without protest, crawling over the bed and to the edge of her thick pile of blankets to scramble beneath them before snuggling down. Before she can ask for him, Malcolm reaches down to her bag and pulls out Mr. Grumps, her scowling stuffed pink t-rex, and places it in her open and waiting arms. Once that’s where it belongs, she sighs and immediately closes her eyes, stuffed dino tucked in close under her chin.

Malcolm gives her another long lingering kiss to her cheek. “Good night, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too, daddy.”

Back in the hall, Malcolm buries his face in her coat and lets out a completely silent scream of frustration. 

He should have known. He should have anticipated. Nothing ever goes right for him. For them. Just when everything seems to start to even out, to maybe, for _once,_ be steady and stable and whole, something has to come along and ruin it. Even if Vijay stays for weeks, _months_ even, every day he’s going to have to look at his little girl and see the fear and worry in her eyes that any second could be the last she sees of her dad for a very long time. But she wants him there, despite the fear, and Malcolm understands that on such a visceral level that it’s killing him. He knows what it feels like to simultaneously fear what your father can do to you and _ache_ to have him around.

Which is something he had desperately hoped to never put her through.

Footsteps heavy with shame and regret, Malcolm heads back to the living room.

There, he finds Vijay sitting on the couch. His own coat and jacket have been laid carefully over the side of one of his arm chairs and he’s currently flipping idly through his phone, but the second Malcolm enters the room, he sets it aside and looks up.

“Hey, I’m really sorry. I just thought—”

“You really didn’t,” Malcolm assures him. “You never do. But we’re not having this conversation right now. I’m far too tired.”

Vijay nods but then gestures toward the empty couch.

“Can I get like, a blanket or a—”

“No.” Malcolm shrugs out of his coat and puts both his and CJ’s on the hooks by the door, checks the locks, sets the alarm, then turns back the way he came. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”


	6. I Saw Daddy Arresting Santa Claus

# 

# Chapter Five

_I Saw Daddy Arresting Santa Claus_

  
  


The night they decorate the tree, Gil gets almost _zero_ sleep.

Something has changed in the way he sees Malcolm and he isn’t sure he understands it, let alone if he’s okay with it. 

Every single smile that lit up his face seemed to spark something in Gil’s stomach or chest. His laugh would twist up his heart. And then there was the way he interacted with both girls. Malcolm was so attentive, he listened, got down on their level so they didn’t have to look up at an adult to make a point or speak their minds - just like he and Jackie had always done. The pure joy pouring off of Lizzy all night was enough to send Gil’s spirits through the roof and he doesn’t really know how to come back down. 

Maybe it’s just the emotions wrapped up around the holidays. Maybe he’d been more lonely than he’d been able to admit to himself or his mother the other day, especially if he’s looking at Malcolm like this now. Malcolm, whom he’s known since the kid was a pre-teen, to whom he’d been a mentor and tried to be a role-model.

But, as he’d been almost too quick to point out, Malcolm isn’t a kid anymore. He’s a father himself - an amazing one in Gil’s opinion. He’s a professional in his thirties, kind, intelligent, warm, and supportive. 

And, _fuck,_ when he smiles…

There had been so many moments all over the course of the evening when Gil’s world seemed to be spinning out of control. 

At the tree lot, when he’d first acknowledged the thought of Malcolm as beautiful had been the first, and the fact that he hadn’t dismissed it as a ridiculous notion at the time was probably what started the avalanche. 

Decorating the tree, dancing and singing with the girls while the smell of chocolate filled the air, Malcolm had seemed so alive, and in turn Gil had _felt_ alive. Even in the attic, the way he’d held him, kept him from falling apart and ruining everyone’s evening.... He can’t imagine anyone else in his life who could be such an unwavering rock of support right now.

Twice he had found himself wanting to kiss the much younger Omega. 

Well, twice he had admitted it to himself, anyway. 

Gil buries his face in his pillow and groans when he realizes he had been so close to just not letting Malcolm leave at all.

Begging him to stay.

But it had to have just been the energy of the night, of seeing his little girl happy for the first time in so long that his heart was doing all sorts of messed up twisting correlations. He’d been high on sugar, and Christmas, and the sounds of laughter and gotten swept up in it all.

The next morning, Gil has to down half a pot of coffee before waking Lizzy. Lizzy, who seems just as reluctant to be awake as he is. She, however, doesn’t get the luxury of a high dose of caffeine and has to slump her way through her oatmeal and orange juice with a barely held back grumble. Her hair still has a few small braids framing her face that CJ had plaited while they were on the couch, before they passed out, and she doesn’t let Gil touch them, despite being a bit messy. 

Though she’s slightly more alert by the time he drops her off at school, it’s not by much. 

He really should be better about bedtime on school nights, but in his line of work he has had to learn to steal the moments when he can. 

From PS110, Gil makes his way to Malcolm’s apartment. They’d made plans to ride in together this morning, Malcolm needing to go in to go over his role in the Tatiana case with the DA to see if she wants him to testify when it goes to court in January. Gil actually hopes he gets to sit on the stand and they manage to put Joey away. It will go a long way to help the higher ups see Malcolm’s value and, more importantly, for Malcolm to remember his own value. 

He enters the code Malcolm gave him to get into the building and heads up to his floor. When he gets there, however, he hesitates before knocking. He has to remember what their friendship is _supposed_ to be. Push aside all the strange and twisted up thoughts he’d had the night before. They were a fluke. A momentary lapse in logic and judgement.

Gil knocks.

“Hell...oooo. Someone ordered a silver fox for breakfast.”

Someone tall, with swept back black hair, deep, tanned skin, and a wide, playful grin - someone decidedly _not_ Malcolm - opens his door. 

Lead fills Gil’s stomach and it’s a jarring and unexpected feeling.

“I told you I would get the door!” Malcolm’s voice grows in volume and frustration the closer he gets. 

“Oh, come on, baby boy. You were busy and I’m not entirely useless.”

Though the look Malcolm gives the guy says he doesn’t agree in the slightest, the way the man looks at Malcolm and calls him ‘baby boy’ makes the lead in Gil’s stomach turn molten.

He swallows heavily. 

“Are you ready to go?” He says, addressing Malcolm directly as soon as the younger man has pushed his way forward. 

Malcolm sighs. “I’m going to need just a couple more minutes. Come on in and I promise I won’t take long at all.”

“Dude. You’re not going to make introductions? Rude.”

Gil barely catches the way Malcolm rolls his eyes at the guy before he heads back further into the apartment. “No, as a matter of fact I’m not.” 

Having learned at a very young age to be silent and observe as much as possible, Gil stands just inside the door and watches. It has served him well his whole life, in social situations, in police work, and it works rather well right now. 

He sees the way Malcolm’s shoulders are tense. He sees the way the new man flinches and then how several emotions flash across his features - his own frustration, then resignation, and a strange sense of determination. Finally, he looks back at Gil with a wide and charming smile, as if none of the past couple minutes have happened at all.

“Vijay Chandasara,” he says easily, holding out his hand to shake, which Gil takes, hiding his reluctance.

“Lieutenant Gil Arroyo, NYPD.” Gil isn’t sure why he chose to introduce himself like that, nor why his voice comes across so caustic. 

“Oh, is my baby boy in trouble? Always knew his wild streak would get him mixed up with the law one day.”

Before Gil can even _begin_ to fathom how to respond to that he hears a high, excited shriek and a blur of bright blue and dark brown slams into his legs.

“GIL!” 

CJ should be at school already, so he looks up at Malcolm who is walking up behind her with his brows high in silent question while leaning over to pick up the excited seven year old. “Hey there, girly. Long time no see!” 

She giggles and boops Gil on the nose, “You saw me yesterday, silly.” 

“That was you?!” He drops his jaw and scoffs. “Oh man, now I remember. All that hot chocolate must have fried my brain.” Gil catches Malcolm mouthing ‘later’ at his second questioning glance and nods before turning back to CJ. “Must have done a number on you, too, if you’re getting to stay home on a Monday!”

Though her face breaks into a wide smile, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. CJ looks over at the young, stranger to Gil, Alpha and that smile falters just the slightest bit.

“I’m spending the morning with my dad. But I have to be at school by twelve because I have a test this afternoon.”

“And not a second later,” Malcolm says with no room for argument in his voice while pointing directly to Vijay who nods solemnly.

“Well,” Gil sets CJ back down on the ground while Malcolm grabs his keys and his coat. “Sounds like you have a fun morning planned. Be good for you dad, okay?”

After shrugging on his coat, Malcolm hugs his little girl even tighter than he usually does. Then he peppers her face in kisses, enough that she giggles. Finally, he whispers something quiet enough Gil can’t make it out, then stands and they make their way out into the hall with one last goodbye.

The trip down to the car is quiet and a little awkward, which feels strange between them. 

As soon as they’re closed up in the Le Mans, however, Gil turns to him and asks, “You wanna talk about it?”

He starts the car while Malcolm seems to think it over. “I don’t even know.”

“You’ve never talked much about CJ’s dad,” Gil points out as evenly as he can manage. He doesn’t know _why_ he’s so twisted up about all of this. He really, really, shouldn’t be. So Gil does his very best to focus on the aspect of the man as CJ’s Alpha father, and not as Malcolm’s former lover. 

If former is even the right term.

“It’s complicated,” Malcolm says eventually, staring vacantly out the window.

“No shit.” Gil scoffs. But then he sobers because he doesn’t want to make light of whatever crazy situation Malcolm has found himself in. “Sorry, kid. You don’t have to tell me anything. But I am sorry it’s so difficult.”

Malcolm waves him off. “It’s fine.” But then he shakes his head and throws his hands in the air. “I mean, it’s not fine, but what in my life is, really? I’m not allowed to have ‘fine’ or ‘not complicated.’”

Gil had hoped that what they’ve got isn’t complicated, and may go a little beyond just ‘fine’ but he realizes the instant he thinks it that it’s an incredibly selfish thought and lets it go as soon as it comes. 

“I just don’t know what to do. She wants to see him, knowing he’s going to leave again. He _always_ leaves. That’s like, his thing. Show up, be a fun dad for less than a week, then poof, gone again for who the hell knows how long. He either needs to stay or stay away and I thought I had gotten through to him last year that the way he does that is destroying her.” His voice falls away and Malcolm shakes his head. When he speaks again, his voice is small and his eyes closed. “Destroying us.”

The bitter tone in Malcolm’s voice makes Gil want to reach out and comfort him, but for the first time in over twenty years of knowing the kid, he isn’t sure if he should. It’s never been an issue before - Gil’s a tactile man. He has been his entire life, with everyone he knows. But there had always been that line between touch as an extension of friendship and touch as something more.

Sometime in the last twenty-four hours, the line got really fucking blurry for Gil.

“You don’t have any formal custody agreements or anything like that?” He says in lieu of any other options. 

Malcolm actually laughs at that, but it’s a dark and humorless sound. “You do know the state of Omega parenting rights in this country, right? It’s still technically legal to not hire someone _just_ because they’re a single Omega parent.” 

Gil does know, he’s had to go to bat for a few of his officers in the past. Unfortunately, and he’s ashamed to admit this even to himself, because he doesn’t _live_ it, he doesn’t always _think_ about it. “I’m sorry. You’re right, and I wasn’t thinking. Most cases I’ve seen, though, revolve around an Omega’s ability to financially support their children and I seriously doubt that would come up as an issue with you.”

“Maybe,” Malcolm concedes with a sigh. “But there are other issues that I’d really rather not ever get brought up in front of or anywhere near CJ. So until I can convince a court that a single Omega with complex PTSD, a history of Psychosis, and a serial killer father - whom he still sees occasionally even if it is only for work - is a fit parent without actually having to bring any of it up, I just have to deal with him.” 

For a moment Gil wonders how Malcolm would be coping if he hadn’t brought him into that first case, would things be different? Better? Worse? He knows Malcolm wasn’t coping well without _something_ constructive to do but would that have still been better? 

“So he just showed up this morning?”

Malcolm shakes his head. “Day before yesterday, actually. Then last night he stayed over -”

Gil’s phone rings, interrupting Malcolm. Though, to be honest, Gil isn’t sure he wants to hear it.

With an internal curse, he hits the accept button on his phone where it’s mounted by the dash.

“Arroyo.”

JT’s voice fills the car, “Morning, Gil!” His detective sounds far too chipper for this early in the morning, especially for someone reporting another crime. “The Jolly Bearded Crusader has struck again.” It’s clear JT is still getting a kick out of having to track down Santa Claus.

“Wonderful,” Gil deadpans. “Send me the address and I’ll head there now.”

“You got it, boss.” JT disconnects and the phone pings just a second later with a text for where he needs to head. 

When Gil looks over he sees Malcolm’s features still clouded in melancholy, a furrow in his brows as his gaze remains unfocused out of the window.

“Want to hit up a crime scene on the way to work?” Gil smacks him lightly on the arm with the back of his hand.

“Art theft again?”

“Unfortunately.”

That, at least, gets the first smile out of Malcolm that Gil has seen all morning. “If it will get me out of paperwork, I’m in.”

It’s small and soft but no less wonderful than his full and bright ones.

Maybe even moreso.

And in that moment, Gil knows he can’t keep talking himself around what’s going on in his heart.

### 

His newest crime scene is considerably messier than the last two had been. 

While the home is no less upscale and well kept than the others, it becomes abundantly clear that whoever had been the attendees of this particular party had been quite a bit younger. Though it’s obvious a serious cleaning effort has already been made, there’s still a lot to be done and giant, overstuffed trash bags are placed throughout the large and open living spaces, nearly bursting with wrapping paper, plastic cups, and various paper decorations. 

“This was the end of semester party for the eighth grade class at St Francis Boarding School,” JT starts, gesturing around at all the decorations of garland and tinsel still hanging from the ceiling and moulding. “Kids started getting dropped off around four. Santa showed after dinner and stayed two hours. All but six kids - who stayed the night - were gone by eleven. The Ruben was in the office upstairs, which - to be fair to the owners - was locked and the frame was set up to an alarm. Somehow, St. Nick got around the system. We’ve got techs tracing what he did now.” 

For once, Malcolm seems to be staying off to the sides. Not too surprising, Gil supposes, since this isn’t really his usual kind of case to get brought in on. He is still, however, obviously taking in all the details he possibly can, for which Gil is thankful. There’s always a chance he could catch something small others have missed.

Something in what JT says makes Gil perk up. 

“Eighth graders? How many?”

JT flips through his notebook a few pages back. “No exact number but the estimate is between sixty and seventy.”

The previous two had been cocktail parties for older elites - black tie, black dress - the kind of get-togethers where it’s much more important to actually interact and rub elbows than update your instagram. No one had taken that many pictures. A party full of rich thirteen year olds, however? 

Gil knows they’ll have taken dozens, if not several hundred, between all the guests. 

It may take some time for them to get a good photo of the guy, something with at least his eyes and facial shape that they can start weeding people out, hopefully. He’s looking around for the owners when he spots Malcolm making his way to the far side of the living room where a young teenage boy is sitting, sulking. The kid looks about the right age to have been either one of the overnight guests or the host.

“Hey, Evan, right?” Malcolm asks, sitting gently on the edge of the ottoman in the center of the room facing the kid. 

Evan nods but doesn’t look up from his phone. “Yeah?” He doesn’t look like he’s actually paying attention to anything on the screen, just idly scrolling through whatever app he has up with a far off look on his face. 

“Was this your party?”

The kid nods again. “Apparently my last one. Mom’s talking about cancelling the end of the year one which is bull. We didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“You sound more bummed out about that than I expected,” Malcolm says kindly. “I’m guessing you guys are all splitting up for high school?”

“Mom’s making me go to Lawrenceville.”

“Holy crap. That’s really impressive. I went to Millbrook. Lawrenceville didn’t want me.”

Evan smirks and shakes his head, but he’s a little less closed off. “My girlfriend is going to Millbrook. Couple of other friends, too.”

“They’ll have a good time. You will too,” Malcolm assures him. Then he pauses to look around at the living room where there are still red and green and silver streamers hanging from the ceiling. “Looks like this was a pretty epic last Christmas party, though. Bet you guys took a ton of pictures.”

“A few.”

“Think I could have a look?”

When Evan shrugs and tosses the phone to Malcolm, Gil gets a little closer so he can peer over his shoulder. 

“I think Molly never put her phone down all night, so she’d have more. But I did get some. Don’t know how much they’ll help,” he picks at a loose thread on his shirt and doesn’t look up again. “Mine and Damon’s parents were the only adults here except Santa. At least, until it was time to go and people started getting picked up.” 

Gil watches Malcolm begin to flick through the photo album slowly, eyes darting over every inch of each picture before moving to the next. He seems to be getting more and more frustrated as he shakes his head harder with every one of them. 

Until he suddenly stops. 

“Evan, where was this photo taken, and who are your parents talking to?” Gil doesn’t get a chance to really look at the screen before Malcolm turns it away.

The kid leans over and shakes his head. “Out front and I have no clue.”

Malcolm’s brows are high with surprise when he turns to hand the phone off, and once Gil gets a good look, he knows exactly where the feeling came from.

In the foreground is Evan and another young man with their arms around each other.

But in the background, at the top right corner of the photo, Mr. and Mrs. Holland are talking to an older gentleman in a cream colored sweater, deep burgundy woolen pants, with a shock of familiarly trimmed white hair and beard.

“I guess we need to pay Nicholas another visit,” Gil mutters. “Evan? Mind if I send myself this picture?” He gets only a silent assent and counts his lucky stars that it’s just the newest iPhone and not some strange prototype model or brand he’d never heard of. His own phone may be years old, but it’s not like Apple really ever updates their basic functions. 

Less than a minute later he’s sent the picture in question to himself via text and hands the phone back to Evan. “Much appreciated, kid. If you’ve got any of the Santa that was here, you let one of my officers know, okay? And it would be a big help if you got the word out to your friends. I bet your parents would appreciate the assistance in getting their artwork back.”

Instead of addressing Gil, Evan looks at Malcolm. “You think if you guys solve this they’ll maybe forget about it by the end of spring?” His fingers are already flying over the phone screen, hopefully asking his friends for help.

Malcolm lets out a soft chuckle but shrugs. “No promises…” He keeps talking to the kid, but Gil turns to make his way back to JT, refocused on the picture on his own screen. 

They’ve got a mythical figure to track down. 

Paperwork isn’t anyone’s favorite thing to do.

It’s boring and tedious and the only part Malcolm ever actually enjoys is getting to write up his profiles in _excruciating_ detail. Observed behaviors, recorded symptoms, severe outcomes, near certain diagnosis down to the last, tiniest element. But once that part is done comes the part that the people who actually write his checks seem to be more concerned with. 

He has to explain why he left the restaurant with Simone. Why he chose the location he did for them to go to. (Malcolm had been lucky one of his mother’s furnished lofts hadn’t been rented at the time.) And any other number of useless explanations to try and keep his job - to prove he isn’t a liability to the force by being a danger to himself or others. 

So yeah, he hates paperwork.

But when Malcolm finds himself at the office slogging through another meticulous explanation and Santa comes walking through the bullpen doors followed by JT and two uniformed officers, he suddenly finds himself glad of the excuse to be in right at that moment. 

It’s only a few more days ‘til Christmas and it had taken Gil’s team a little longer than they had anticipated to track Nicholas down. 

He hadn’t been at The Workshop - at least, he hadn’t been in according to all of the workers they’d talked to - and when they finally got a hold of his business paperwork with his name on it, they’d found the man had over two dozen known addresses all over the world. Nicholas de Bari could have been literally on any part of the globe, though Gil kept reminding JT they never had any record of him leaving the country. 

Malcolm is dying to know all the details of where they finally tracked him down. 

Though he’s convinced the man didn’t steal anything, that’s about _all_ Malcolm is convinced of when it comes to Nicholas and to be honest, he hates not being able to get anything resembling a solid profile on someone he’s interacted with more than once. 

Just as Gil had requested, they have brought him in quietly. There are no cuffs, and he’s even chatting with a couple of the officers as they walk through to the conference room. 

“You traumatize any kids?” Malcolm asks JT as the detective is walking by.

“Not a one,” he assures him. “Unis waited outside and far enough away from the door they blended in and me and Mr. Claus there just strolled out having a nice, casual, afternoon conversation.”

That’s all he gets before everything is quiet once more. Well, as quiet as it gets in the middle of the afternoon in Major Crimes, anyway. Gil and JT sit down with Nicholas in the conference room, and Malcolm knows they want to keep the man comfortable and not on alert that he’s actually a suspect. 

From what Malcolm had seen of the man, it’s likely he’s already well aware, but this isn’t Malcolm’s case, and he won’t ruin the surprise for Gil and JT.

For the next hour, he tries to refocus on the screen in front of him. Sometimes it feels like he gets several hundred words out in only a few minutes while others feel like he’s dragging each letter from his fingertips by force. There’s too much going on in his head and around him, and it’s always harder to focus around the holidays anyway. 

Especially when things are so up and down at home. 

Vijay is still around. Malcolm’s not sure if he’s thankful or ready for him to just be gone again.

It _is_ surprising, if he’s honest with himself, if nothing else. The Alpha usually gets in a few fun days with both of them, then calls it good. But it’s been over a week.

For the first time, Malcolm has kept his promise to himself and they haven’t even kissed let alone gone any further than that. What is _not_ surprising is that he isn’t even tempted. Despite having the occasional flashbacks to some of their more heated times together, all they do is provide him with a lot of fond memories and the occasional flushed cheeks. 

No, all of those desires have solidly landed in a much different - much _older_ \- direction.

Even still, Vijay hasn’t complained and hasn’t even really made an attempt at seducing Malcolm into bed again after that very first night. Apparently all his focus has been on CJ. Though Malcolm made him get a hotel room, he’d gotten one within a block of their building. The closer proximity made it easy for him to be there to have breakfast with her and walk her to school every single morning. And yesterday, her last day of school before Christmas, he’d actually gone to her classroom holiday party and took cookies.

Malcolm had been absolutely _floored_ when he’d offered in the first place and nearly stopped breathing when he actually followed through.

CJ’s been fluctuating between floating on cloud nine and walking on the most fragile eggshells of her life. 

After every smile, every laugh full of joy, is that blink-and-you-miss-it moment of fear. He’s tried to get her to talk about it, to say out loud what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. But she’s been silent. Unusually so. Malcolm doesn’t really need her to say it, though. The fear is written plain as day in her little face and brilliant blue eyes. She’s worried that each and every moment of happiness is going to be the last, that it will get ripped away just as quickly as it came and they’ll all be right back where they started. 

And he doesn’t blame her. 

Malcolm’s kind of feeling the same way. 

It’s been fifteen minutes since he put a single word on the screen in front of him when Malcolm’s phone jars him from his thoughts. 

“Ainsley!” He picks up with a smile but an undercurrent of worry in his stomach. His sister has both CJ and Lizzy this afternoon, helping them pick out gifts for Gil and Malcolm before the four of them go out ice skating for their last get together before Christmas in two days. “Everything okay with the girls?”

“Yes and no.” She sounds slightly out of breath, making Malcolm sit up straighter, already a little on edge. “They’re great. Both in one solid, sugar capped and shopped out piece each. But I just got a call that Jin fell on some ice while filming a fluff piece in the park with Jasmine Dunbar. Stupid wench wouldn’t know what a safe shooting location looked like if it smacked her in the head. Anyway, he went down with his camera and got beat up pretty bad. He’ll be okay but I gotta go pick him up from the hospital and I need you to take the girls back early.”

Malcolm looks down at the open folder on the desk in front of him then the screen, still half finished. If he can complete this tonight before they all head to the ice skating rink then he won’t have to come back before Christmas unless he gets an actual murder case that Gil needs him for. Both girls have been to the station before, of course. But when Malcolm looks up and sees the figure sitting across the conference table from Gil he knows they really shouldn’t tempt fate.

“I need you to take them to mom,” he tells her, hoping he doesn’t have to explain.

“I can’t. If I took them to mom she would ask where I was going and why I was skipping out early on my responsibilities and like hell I’m having that conversation.”

“You know, if you just told mother that you had a boyfriend you wouldn’t have to avoid situations like this.” He points out, half amused at her Whitly level obstinance, half frustrated that it’s put him in this position. 

“Yeah, right. ‘Hi mother. This is Jin. He’s a camera man and will be doing that his whole life because that side of journalism is his passion.’ Yeah. That’s gonna go over great. She’ll be trying to set me up with even more hedge fund managers and lawyers than she does now.”

“You get the Eve text too?”

“That lawyer that’s been hanging around the house all the time lately? Yeah. I told her she should take her out instead. Look, we’re less than a block away. This was just a courtesy call so you could be ready for the munchkins.”

“Ainley, at least let me call Rhiannon, this really isn’t - ”

“We’ll see you in a minute, bro!”

Though he tries to protest again, Ainsley has already hung up. 

Malcolm curses and rubs at his face. If the girls see Gil and JT interrogating the man they both treated like Santa Claus, it’s going to be a hell of a scene. He knows CJ will just find it funny, given her understanding of the myth and sense of humor. 

But he _despairs_ as to how Lizzy will react.

He saves the report he’s working on before locking the computer and grabbing the case folder from the desk. There’s a chance that if he gets to Ainsley before she makes it to the elevator he won’t make it back here to properly file this away, but that means he has to take the few extra steps to actually do that. 

Which cuts into his time to actually _get to her_ before she brings them up.

Unfortunately, the elevator he’s waiting on to take him down to the main floor opens up to the three girls he’d been hoping to intercept. 

“Hi, daddy!” CJ jumps up into his arms in an instant and is just distracting enough that Lizzy manages to slip past his attempts to corral them back into the elevator car.

And because Malcolm’s life is nothing but a series of very badly timed coincidences Gil and JT choose that exact moment to lead Nicholas de Bari out of the conference room.

Everything kind of freezes for a moment.

At least, in Malcolm’s head, they do. 

And he takes a breath.

He looks at Ainsley.

“Remember,” he says just above a whisper. “This is all your fault.”

She looks surprised for about half a second before her jaw drops in offense. 

But then Lizzy gasps.

“Daddy! Did you arrest _Santa!?”_

Malcolm immediately places his hand over CJ’s mouth to keep her from saying _anything._ She’s really, very good about not letting it slip, but sometimes he needs to be cautious in heat of the moment kind of situations. She does deflate in his arms like she’d been about to say something she knows she shouldn’t. 

Ainsley, at least, has the decency to look ashamed. “Oh,” she says quietly. “Maybe I should…”

“Oh no. It’s too late for that. You’ve already dropped them off in the minefield. Go on, go get your secret boyfriend and leave this to me. I’ll be just peachy.” His tone is just this side of scathing and though he’s frustrated, he recognizes that it’s probably a little harsh. 

CJ is quick to call him out on it. “Daddy, that’s not nice.” 

Malcolm sighs, “I know.” He turns back to Ainsley. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

He’s interrupted by Gil and Lizzy joining them, Gil obviously putting on his calmest, blankest ‘cop’ face while Lizzy glares up at him with her arms crossed and lips pursed. “What are they doing here?” Though his voice is soft, it’s obvious how much of his own anger lies just under the surface. 

Thankfully, Ainsley steps in between them. 

“It’s all my fault, Gil. I had an emergency come up and I didn’t listen to Malcolm when he told me I should call our mother. I’m sorry, I just, I need to go get Jin.” 

“He’s in the ER,” Malcolm adds to back her up, despite being angry with her still, himself.

Gil swallows and holds his hand over his mouth for several heart beats then nods and steps a little closer to her. “In the future, bringing them here should _always_ be the last resort, got it?”

She nods and makes more apologies, but Gil waves her off, letting Ainsley get back in the elevator less than a minute later. 

Unfortunately, both Gil and Malcolm have work to finish up. And it’s not like they can make things _worse_ than they already are. Lizzy isn’t talking to Gil, no matter what he says. So Malcolm leads both her and CJ off to the break room first to get a drink and something to munch on. Then he gets them set up at a desk right next to where he will be going back to his own work. Gil goes to his office with JT and Dani while Malcolm unlocks the computer once more. 

Thankfully, Nicholas has been completely cleared as a suspect. There are a lot of details that Malcolm is dying to know and Gil has promised to fill him in later. For now, what really matters is that he has happily volunteered to keep CJ and Lizzy entertained for a little while - simultaneously assuaging their worries over his possible incarceration.

They’re close enough to Malcolm that he can hear their conversation.

“You promise my daddy didn’t arrest you?” Lizzy’s voice is still curled in anger but her features have softened and she’s no longer glaring at the world at large. 

“Cross my heart, little one,” Nicholas assures her. Then he adds, “I’m actually helping him out!”

“Like my daddy does!” CJ says excitedly.

“Exactly.”

“How?” Lizzy unfolds her arms and leans forward. “You’re supposed to make toys and give gifts, not solve crime. My daddy had to work a long time to learn how to do that and CJ’s daddy went to school and had to learn loads of stuff.”

“Well, considering that I’m pretty sure I’m older than both of your fathers combined, I’ve had time to pick up a few things here and there.” 

“Did something bad happen at The Workshop?” she asks.

“No.” He pauses, and from the corner of Malcolm’s vision he can see the man tap on his lips for a moment in thought before continuing. “You remember when we met a few weeks ago we talked about how there are a lot of people out there who have to do some of the work I can’t get to?” 

“Yeah.” Both girls say together. 

“Well, one of those people is doing something he shouldn’t be. Taking things that don’t belong to him.”

Lizzy looks offended on his behalf, and Malcolm has to force himself to bite back a smile and refocus on his computer screen. “So he’s doing bad things while pretending to be YOU?”

“But you’re not even the real Santa.” 

“CJ!” Lizzy gasps. “That’s rude!” 

“There’s not a real -”

“CJ!” Malcolm warns, breaking in for the first time. 

She slumps back in her chair, arms crossed, contrite and silent. 

“I know you don’t believe, my dear,” Nicholas tells her, voice soft and gentle. “But I’d really like the chance to change your mind, if you’d give me one.” 

Malcolm is watching now, not even hiding it. He sees how Lizzy looks conflicted, a mixture of reluctant and excited. CJ, however, looks suspicious, but like she might indulge him. 

“Ask me for something,” he adds. “Anything you want that you haven’t told your fathers, or your aunts or grandmothers.”

“Anything?” She asks, eyes narrow and calculating. She is absolutely his kid.

“Anything at all. Both of you.”

Malcolm can’t hear any of what the three of them say for the next few minutes as their voices all drop into soft, silent whispers. Every time he takes a glance in their direction, they’re all leaned in close over the desk as if they are discussing extremely important topics. Which, Malcolm supposes, Christmas is, at that age.


	7. Slipping

# 

#  Chapter Six

_ Slipping  _

  
  


Thankfully, by the time Gil has finished for the day and is ready to go with Malcolm and the girls to the ice skating rink, Lizzy has gotten over her initial fury that he’d ‘arrested Santa.’

She doesn’t even seem to hold a grudge, which she can be  _ spectacular  _ at, so he’s pretty happy about that. What she doesn’t do is explain  _ why  _ she’s suddenly so chipper about the whole situation and CJ isn’t exactly forthcoming either. 

Malcolm seems to know something, and hopefully he can get it out of the man when the girls aren’t listening in. For now, he seems to be playing the neutral card. 

His own anger at having them show up unexpectedly has ebbed as well. It had helped that he had been fully prepared to defend himself by giving ‘Santa’ the all clear to the girls himself. It had absolutely been Nicholas in the picture Evan Holland had shown him, but the man had been able to convince them of his innocence. 

The drive through town is peaceful. Well, as peaceful as a car ride with two kids singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs in the back seat can possibly be. However, it gives Gil a little too much time to think.

The last few days have been strange for Gil. 

Since the night they were all together to decorate the Christmas tree, he’s been trying very hard to ignore the little twists of his stomach and flutters of his heart every time Malcolm is around. He knows what they mean. He  _ knows  _ how he’s feeling. 

He also knows he shouldn’t.

The guilt eats at him. Guilt for feeling this way about anyone but Jackie for the first time in his life is first and foremost. The entire time they’d been together, he’d never been anything but faithful in word, deed, and thought. Other than being able to acknowledge the inherent beauty of another person, there hadn’t been any wandering gazes or hopeful connections. There hadn’t been any reason to. Even when he and Jackie had argued or fought over something he’d wanted nothing but to love her until his dying breath. 

It feels wrong, to see someone smile and have his heart melt.

It feels even worse that it’s Malcolm. 

There are moments, though they are extremely rare, where he still sees in him the kid he once knew. No matter how much Gil tries to focus on those, reminds himself of the length and initial nature of their relationship, he can’t help the thoughts that slip through. The easier ones are those that he has for how to make him smile, how to make him happy. Beyond just wanting to see a friend in good spirits or being happy for someone who is doing well he wants to see Malcolm flourish - he wants to be a part of it. He  _ aches  _ to be at his side and be an important part of his life and his journey and not just a bit piece of it. 

And he wants to be a part of CJ’s life. Gil knows it’s not just because she’s so close to Lizzy, or that she seems to be the first person who has been able to break through his daughter’s shell since Jackie died - thought that certainly helps. She’s vibrant and intelligent and witty and such a big part of Malcolm’s life. Every time Gil has a thought of how much he wants to be around always has both of them in it. 

Then there are the less than pure thoughts that keep sneaking up on him. 

At work the other day, Malcolm had been mouthing idly at the tip of a pen and Gil found himself staring and half hard before he realized what was going on. 

At dinner a few nights ago, CJ and Lizzy had inhaled their meals and left them alone, insisting they take their time. For an hour they just sat, ate, and talked. One (or both) of the girls had put some music on in the living room and it had felt, in hindsight, oddly like a date. More times than Gil could keep up with, he’d had to stop himself from reaching for Malcolm’s hand, or force himself to focus on the conversation when his thoughts strayed to things like how Malcolm’s hair might feel between his fingers, or what his lips would taste like just after he’d taken a sip of the wine he’d nursed all evening. 

Finally, there’s his scent. 

Gil had never understood romance novels and romantic movies where Alphas and Omegas had waxed poetic about someone’s scent, or how some people he knows can go on and on about how just smelling something that reminds them of their partner can drive them wild.

Until now.

He keeps finding himself way too close. Occasionally at work, but usually around the girls. They keep tripping and falling into each other or being tricked into small spaces to help CJ or Lizzy do something. There was even one time when the two of them had managed to trap them both in Malcolm’s closet while they were pulling out gifts. Every time Gil’s head had gone fuzzy and his thoughts all over the place as he took a deep breath, overwhelmed with the scent of sweet berries and red wine. It had been incredibly hot with the two of them in the small space, attempting to call out for the girls but unable to get very far from each other that each brush of their bodies sent jolts of electricity through every single one of his nerves. By the time they’d been let out - only five minutes later - Gil had been so flushed and light headed, he hadn’t even been able to come up with a suitable punishment for Lizzy.

He still doesn’t know if Malcolm managed to say something to CJ.

Even still, he can’t let any of that get in the way of the friendship they’re building, or the one their girls have found themselves in. He can’t risk it, and he definitely can’t take the chance that this is some kind of momentary infatuation with the first person that he’s been close to since Jackie. 

At the rink, Gil focuses on the girls, on keeping them giggling and entertained during the long line to get their skates. It doesn’t stop the glances, of course. Doesn’t stop the way he freezes when Malcolm laughs. But he  _ tries,  _ damn it all.

It feels like it takes forever for the four of them to finally get out onto the ice, but once they do, it’s as if everything is suddenly exactly like it’s supposed to be. 

CJ appears to be an excellent skater. She can spin and even do simple jumps. Apparently she’d had a couple years of lessons and Malcolm talks about finding her another teacher here in New York. Lizzy and Gil are both passable. They stay up easily, able to go quickly and turn and stop with confidence. CJ even tries to teach Lizzy a few things she knows and she picks it up pretty quickly, even if it’s obvious she’s scared she’ll fall.

Malcolm…

Malcolm is terrible at ice skating.

Atrocious might be a better word. 

“It isn’t that hard, daddy.” CJ is literally skating circles around Malcolm who isn’t hanging on to the wall any more but is making sure to stay  _ very  _ close. 

Lizzy does a quick little spin that ends with her legs a little wobbly and her arms out to hold her balance, but upright. “Even my daddy can do it,” she says and Gil laughs. 

“Weren’t you a dancer?” He can’t help but ask with a smirk.

That earns him a glare. Malcolm starts to shake his head but seems to think better of it when it appears to throw off his balance. “Dancing on solid ground with shoes that have  _ grip  _ and moving on sharp blades on ice  _ designed to be extra slick  _ are two completely different things.” 

Even though CJ appears to have infinite patience when it comes to teaching Lizzy some of her tricks, it’s run thin when it comes to her dad. Gil has a feeling this isn’t the first time she’s attempted to get him on the ice. She rolls her eyes and skates off ahead for a moment before looping back around, then frowning up at him. “Can Lizzy and I go around without you guys? You’re  _ slow. _ ” 

Lizzy looks up at Gil, hopeful. He doesn’t have any issue with it, used to watching her make loops on her own and confident with the security system the staff has in place here. But he looks to Malcolm before saying anything.

Malcolm seems to be questioning Gil as well, so he just gives the younger man a quick nod.

“Fine,” Malcolm says with a small wave of his hand. “Go, you tiny terror.” 

He barely gets the ‘fine’ out of his lips before the two of them take off, CJ slightly ahead while Lizzy works hard to keep up. 

“You never bothered to learn this while she was taking lessons?” Gil asks, offering his hand to Malcolm without thinking.

Both of them are wearing gloves, so there’s no actual body heat when their fingers touch but Gil still feels a rush the moment they do. And Malcolm seems to relax at having the assistance, the scowl of concentration softening a touch. 

“I’ve never had anyone  _ teach  _ me, if that’s what you mean. But it really shouldn’t be that difficult, so I’ve tried to get out a few times. It’s just… I see people doing it but I can’t seem to make myself do the same thing.” Which, for someone so quick, must be terribly frustrating. 

“Why don’t I give teaching a go? See if you can’t get somewhere with some actual instruction?”

Malcolm’s smile is immediate and fucking  _ brilliant,  _ brght blue eyes alight in excitement and joy.

Gil is so screwed.

For the next fifteen minutes they go slow, Gil showing Malcolm the angles to hold his feet and how to push off with the side of his blade rather than what he’s been doing. He fixes Malcolm’s position, helping him find his center of gravity that’s a little different on skates than it normally is. That takes a little bit too much touching for Gil’s sanity but he pushes through, focuses on helping Malcolm and not the thrill that goes through his skin at how close they come at times. 

It takes him a few minutes to get over the awkwardness of turning his ankles the right way - and Gil remembers having to train himself to do something that doesn’t really feel natural at first. But eventually, he gets it. 

Soon enough, Malcolm loses the tell-tale sign of imbalance and flailing arms, even keeping them at the right distance from himself to hold his own balance for a few seconds at a time.

Though his hand seems to keep coming back to Gil over and over.

Gil doesn’t complain. 

They’re moving at a slow, but steady enough pace, most people gliding past them with ease when Gil hears two familiar giggles coming up fast from behind them. 

Lizzy and CJ zoom past the two of them on either side, brushing by with a gentle push on both men that makes Malcolm throw his arms out to steady himself. Gil instantly reaches to grab hold. 

They come to a stop face to face, Gil’s hands on Malcolm’s hips, still standing. 

Too close.

Neither moves.

Malcolm’s face breaks into a small, embarrassed smile, already red tinted cheeks going a shade darker as he looks up from beneath his lashes with a soft, “Sorry about that.”

Gil can’t breathe.

“Think I can let go and you’ll stay vertical?” He asks quietly, thumb absentmindedly rubbing a slow circle on one of Malcolm’s sides.

When he gets a gentle nod, Gil makes sure to use his skates to push back, trying not to put any force on Malcolm’s precariously balanced body.

He’s not far enough away when he takes another deep breath, Malcolm’s sweet scent filling his lungs, and the urge to go right back where he was - to get even closer - is almost overwhelming. With his eyes closed, Gil takes another long stride backwards. When he opens them, Malcolm is looking everywhere but at Gil.

“Alright,” Gil clears his throat, then tries to swallow the lump that’s formed, to ease the tight ache in his chest. “Let’s see how well you do on your own for a bit.”

“That’s… uh.” Malcolm lets out a quiet, self deprecating chuckle. “That’s probably a good idea. Never know until I try, right?”

Gil  _ can  _ skate backwards but he’s almost as slow going at it as Malcolm is just going forward. So he carefully spins on his blades and begins gliding away, still facing the younger man. He can’t rely on Malcolm to keep his eyes on the path behind Gil, so he makes sure to turn his head and check that it’s clear every once in a while, but for the most part keeps focus on his pupil. 

They make it almost entirely around the circuit, getting lapped by the girls a few times. They stop and show off their tricks and spins once or twice before moving on, encouraged by Gil and Malcolm’s enthusiastic applause every time they get it right. 

Just as they’re about to begin a second loop, CJ and Lizzy come barrelling directly towards Malcolm arm in arm. At the last moment they split to go around, but it’s not enough.

Gil can see the devious glints in their eyes and conspiratorial grins a split second before it happens. 

This time, they come far too close to Malcolm and it’s painfully obvious that the collision is on purpose. It’s not a direct hit, just a glancing blow from both girls, made to look like a playful shove. 

But there’s nothing to do to stop them. 

Malcolm starts to flail with a shout, gliding forward with too much force for Gil to stop them both from going down to the ice. He just barely manages to keep from letting his head hit the frozen surface. 

Though Malcolm tries to stop himself from coming down too quickly with his hands on the ice, they slip instantly and he closes the last couple inches with the breath being knocked from both of them. Gil winds up on his back, arms full of Malcolm who lands hard on top. 

The contrast from the chill of the ice and the sudden overwhelming heat of having Malcolm pressed so tightly against him, shoulder to hip, is maddening. 

Neither moves for a moment, Malcolm likely worried he’ll simply slip and fall back too easily, Gil terrified he’s simply going to wrap his arms around the younger man and never ever let go. 

“You know,” Malcolm says into Gil’s shoulder. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were doing this on purpose.”

“Of course they are,” Gil assures him with a soft huff. “I watched them  _ aim  _ for you.” 

Malcolm manages to get his hands under him and pushes up just enough that he can look into Gil’s eyes. Gil has to wonder what he looks like - if his cheeks are as red and flushed as Malcolm’s are, and if Malcolm is as heated as he suddenly feels. 

When Malcolm licks his lips, Gil has to thank  _ god  _ that he’s too cold for the heat that rushes through his body to make any noticeable difference. 

“I don’t just mean this,” his gaze dips to Gil’s lips and then back up again.

Gil is about to lift up, to damn the fact that they’re in public and damn all the reasons he shouldn’t, when Malcolm squeezes his eyes shut, lets out a sharp whine and rolls away. Though it takes him a moment, he manages to get into a sitting position while Gil lets his own head fall back against the ice a few times in silent punishment for letting his body almost get away from his brain. 

“This isn’t the first time,” Malcolm continues, not even trying to stand, though his ass has got to be freezing by now if the chill that’s set into Gil’s back half is anything to go by. “There have been several other instances where they’ve been a little pushy for us to be together. Tripped us up. Forced us to listen to them wax poetic about each other. Not that Lizzy was wrong about how awesome you are.” 

While Malcolm speaks, Gil gets to his feet, noticing how the younger man is pointedly  _ not  _ looking at Gil. Almost like he’s ashamed of what he’s saying. 

“They’re just playing around, being kids,” Gil tries to argue while he offers Malcolm a hand to help him stand. 

It takes a moment for Malcolm to notice, what with how hard he’s staring at the ice in front of him. 

When he finally does it seems at first that he’s not going to take it, that he’s going to try and heft himself up off the ice. But eventually he gets over whatever hang up he’s got about it and gives in.

Gil quickly makes sure there is distance between them once he’s standing upright. 

“They’re deliberately putting us in situations where we are either alone or it’s intended to be romantic.”

“They’re eight.”

“They’re bright little girls who enjoy each other’s company. They probably think it’s cute.”

The worst part about this entire conversation is that Malcolm still isn’t looking at Gil. It means that he can’t really get a good read on what emotions are playing out in the kid’s head, though the simple fact that he refuses to make eye contact says a lot all on its own. 

But he’s still not entirely convinced.

Before he can make another argument to convince Malcolm he’s wrong, CJ and Lizzy come to a skidding halt right next to Malcolm.

“Are you okay?” Lizzy asks, checking him over and looking genuinely concerned.

“Maybe you should keep holding daddy’s hand,” CJ says to Gil with a smirk and a glint in her eyes that makes something in Gil’s head click. 

He really should learn never to question Malcolm.

“He does look like he still really needs it,” Lizzy agrees with a solemn nod, though she still looks worried for his somewhat wobbly stance. 

At Malcolm’s brief ‘I told you so’ look, Gil’s argument loses all momentum completely. 

They  _ are  _ doing this on purpose - and everything else as well. He thinks back to all the little things they’d done over the last few months and realizes that it’s really only a recent development. Though he can’t pinpoint a specific moment or instance it started, the last few weeks are the only times he can really say for certain they had begun to conspire against them. Or for them? Gil shakes his head, uncertain. What he is certain of is that at some point they had started making excuses to run off and leave them together, tricking them into moments where they got too close, and then the whole closet thing and wrapping them up in Christmas lights in the middle of the living room. 

Gil groans. 

“Off the ice, both of you,” he demands of the girls.

They both protest, loudly, but Malcolm backs him up with a stern look and silent point towards the exit. 

Gil continues. “You both should know better than to rough house out here. I was lucky I didn’t crack my head and Malcolm is lucky he didn’t twist an ankle. He barely knows how to skate, let alone fall safely. We’ll discuss any possible further punishment when we’re all on solid ground, understood?”

As should be expected from each of them, Lizzy nearly looks on the verge of tears and CJ just looks put out. She’s never one to get too choked up unless someone is  _ actually  _ injured, but Gil’s little girl can get the water works going just from a disappointed look. 

They both sulk off towards the exit, leaving Malcolm and Gil where they are on the ice. 

“Wow,” Gil lets out a heavy breath the moment they’re out of ear shot. 

“I know, right?” Malcolm asks with a shake of his head. “And you call yourself a detective.” He’s got a small smile slowly spreading across his lips. Gil can’t even measure the relief that floods through him that whatever is going through his head isn’t too damning. 

“Me?” Gil’s jaw drops and he gestures to Malcolm. “Look me in the eye and tell me you knew earlier than two minutes ago.”

He does,  _ finally,  _ and Gil has to force himself not to be the one to look away, to keep his gaze and not do anything else he shouldn’t either. 

“I knew for  _ sure  _ two minutes ago. But I suspected the other day.” 

“The closet?”

Malcolm nods. The red on his cheeks goes another shade deeper and he clears his throat while looking towards where the girls have gone. “Should we call it a night, or just let them sit and stew for a few minutes?”

There’s still just over an hour on the time they’ve paid for, and Gil figures that a few minutes to think about it, plus a few words from he and Malcolm, should do the trick. “Let’s separate them for about ten minutes, let them know if it happens again we  _ will  _ go home, and call it good?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Malcolm gives a quick nod and  _ very slowly  _ begins to make his own way off the ice, no support needed.

Gil tries very desperately to not think about how well they work together when it comes to parenting.


	8. Choices We Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you didn't miss chapter 7/13 (by ao3s counting) as I accidentally posted this one first so two chapters got posted at the same time today!

# 

#  Chapter Seven

_ The Choices We Make _

  
  


Three days before Christmas, Malcolm and CJ do their official celebration with Vijay.

He gets there late in the evening, just in time for an awkward dinner and gifts after, CJ curling up in his lap to watch a couple of claymation Christmas classics afterwards. 

Malcolm is kind of - or rather - completely fucking lost when it comes to what the hell is going on with Vijay.

He has never, in all seven plus years of CJ’s life, stuck around this long. 

Even when she was first born, he only stayed a few days after Malcolm was released from the hospital, heading out on a job before she was two weeks old. 

It should have been his first red flag. But even though they had agreed they wouldn’t be in a serious relationship, Vijay had insisted he wanted to be around - to know her and for her to know him, to see her grow up. And yet he hadn’t even taken a single day off to stick around a little more for those first couple months. Though he kept coming back at first, the days away grew longer and longer. He always had an excuse. A reason. It wasn’t always his job, sometimes he’d travel to see family, friends. Just to do it. Malcolm couldn’t exactly say anything, and it wasn’t as if he really  _ wanted  _ him to be around all that much. Even if they did pick their physical relationship back up within just a few months. 

Which had always been Malcolm’s downfall. 

Eventually, he was gone more than he was around. He would show up all excited and ready to shower them both in love in affection every holiday and birthday. Occasionally in between. 

But Vijay had never been one to get serious about his feelings if he could joke about it instead, so no matter Malcolm’s protests, arguments, begging to know exactly what he wanted from them, it just kept happening and he never got any answers. 

There have been a few times this month he has tried to bring it up with the Alpha, but true to form, he always gets shrugged off. Or Vijay makes some quip, makes a joke about it. Malcolm knows, at a bone deep level, that something is different and he is determined to get to the bottom of it. 

Even if he has to tie Vijay to a fucking chair. 

After Vijay carries CJ off to her bed - a sight that used to tug at Malcolm’s heart strings, but now just confuses him even more - he manages to get him corralled out onto the small terrace.

The air is cold, the overcast sky still occasionally dusting the world in bursts of snow. But Malcolm gets the small outdoor heater cranked up and curls up with a blanket and a mug of coffee at the end of his outdoor sofa and within a few minutes, he’s just warm enough to exist comfortably.

Vijay starts to sit next to him, a smirk on his lips. “Is it cuddle up time, Ba—”

“No,” Malcolm says, interrupting him with a hand up. Thankfully, Vijay just shrugs like it’s no big deal and takes the opposite end of the couch, lounging back in the corner with his arm stretched over the back. “I told you, that part of our relationship is over.”

A flash of disappointment crosses Vijay’s features, but he schools them quick enough. “You’ve never been this persistent about that, though.”

“I’m trying something new,” Malcolm says.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Self worth,” he says with a sigh. “And responsible parenting. And, a dozen other things since moving back to New York.” Malcolm sips at his coffee, letting the liquid warm him from the inside out and savoring the rich flavor for a moment. “Every time I give in, it confuses things and makes it seem like you keep coming back for things other than what you  _ should  _ be coming back for. Which is CJ.”

Vijay gives him a dubious look and scoffs. “Come on, Mal. CJ isn’t confused. She is way smarter than—”

“I’m not talking about confusing CJ,” Malcolm admits without looking up. In fact, he stares out at the New York skyline and their view of Central Park, gaze unfocused. “I’m talking about me. I’m talking about the fact that I haven’t slept with anyone in my entire life  _ but you.  _ I’m talking about the fact that once upon a time, at the tail end of a really shitty fucking childhood, we formed a bond that I thought was love and was nothing more than a shared coping mechanism. I’m talking about the fact that I love the fun we had together. I  _ miss  _ our friendship - which we haven’t really  _ had  _ in almost a decade. But I recognize that the only thing that kept you in my life was the sex and I am fucking  _ terrified  _ it was the only thing keeping you in CJ’s.” 

His voice doesn’t crack, doesn’t break. Malcolm is proud of the fact that he manages to get all of that out in one, steady flow of clearly spoken words. His chest is burning and tight, but he’s not done. Even if he had to stick up for himself first and foremost, that was the hardest part. He still has to stick up for CJ and that’s easier than breathing. 

Malcolm still hasn’t looked back at Vijay. 

“And no, CJ isn’t confused about  _ us.  _ She is a brilliant, extremely - terrifyingly at times - observant child. She knows that there isn’t an us outside of me putting up with you when you come around. No, the problem with you and CJ is that she’s confused about  _ you. _ You who tell her you love her then vanishes for months on end. You, who promise her the world when all she wants is for you to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story.”

He finally forces himself to look back and is nearly shocked speechless to see tear streaks on Vijay’s face.

But he’s been holding this in too long and built up far too much steam to stop now. 

“She wants to spend time with you at the zoo, and you buy her a bunny rabbit instead. She has me send you a text about her school performances and programs and you never respond. The next time you show up it’s with the thinnest apology in the world and an expensive gift she may or may not actually be interested in. She wants to make you breakfast and you’re always gone when she wakes up and she never knows how long you’ll be away. When you aren’t here, sometimes all she wants is for me to call you so she can say goodnight. You never answer.” Malcolm swallows, thinking back on how the next part is the crux of the entire thing and that both he and Vijay know, on a very deep level, what it feels like to have a dad suddenly not there. But he’s  _ never  _ really been there and maybe that’s why he doesn’t really get it. “Vijay, she wants a  _ father  _ and all she has is a cool uncle who shows up and spoils her on occasion. And she  _ knows  _ the difference. She just doesn’t know why you’re different.”

For the first time in over seven years, Malcolm isn’t expecting this to get shrugged off. Vijay’s cheeks are too wet, his lips trembling just enough Malcolm knows he’s getting through. Other than that, he has no idea  _ what  _ to expect in response. Especially since he had never in a million years seen this reaction coming in the first place. 

Vijay is quiet for a long time. 

At first, he keeps his dark gaze locked on Malcolm’s but that eventually becomes too much and he looks away, down at the ground as if he’s ashamed. Which is, to be fair, exactly what Malcolm is going for here. He needs him to feel something, anything, and admit to what’s going through his head. 

Once, Malcolm might have reached for him. He may have tried to comfort him through this emotional beating even if it is at Malcolm’s own hand. But he can’t. He can’t be that for Vijay any more and he cannot, even for one second, give him the idea that he could ever be again. 

“I never wanted to be a parent,” Vijay admits so quietly that Malcolm almost misses it. 

He wants to reply something along the lines of ‘no shit’ but keeps his lips shut tight in a thin line. Making any sort of commentary may derail whatever Vijay is ready to get off his chest and Malcolm can’t take that chance. 

“I’m sure that was, you know, obvious, from the moment you told me that broken condom had made a bigger impact than either of us thought it would.” Malcolm nods even though Vijay isn’t looking at him yet. “All of the people we knew in school were fucked up six ways from Sunday. Even if we were a little - a lot - worse off than them because our baggage was more prominent, that didn’t mean they didn’t all have their issues. And then you stop to think about all the shit we dealt with? My dad was a fucking high class drug dealer.”

Malcolm can’t hold the scoff that escapes his lips back. “Are we heading into ‘shitty father’ competition territory? Because I think we both know who wins that one and yet I have never once run away from any of this.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Vijay stands and runs his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. “But I’m not talking about not wanting a kid with you. It would have been the thought with anyone. Even someone with perfect parents.” He starts to pace in the space in front of Malcolm. “We were in our twenties. I had a generic Ivy league business degree with no fucking clue what I was going to do with it. Sometimes I still don’t. Who the fuck knows where I was going or where I would end up? Where I wanted to go? I sure as hell didn’t. And I was terrified I’d make some stupid fucking mistake like my pops did or that I’d make a decision that would keep me away from both of you after getting…” 

When he trails off and doesn’t seem to want to continue that train of thought Malcolm has to take a deep breath. He had done exactly what he’s saying he has been scared of. But Malcolm knows Vijay well enough that the guy gets that. That in protecting himself from the  _ chance  _ of future guilt from making a huge mistake, he hurt others instead. Malcolm also knows that he’s conflicted about it and angry for some reason. 

But the problem is, Malcolm can’t figure out what reason it is. 

“So what’s changed?”

Vijay stops in his tracks and turns to look back at Malcolm. His lips are parted in surprise but he slowly closes them, a warm look coming over his eyes.

He smiles.

“How much I was willing to fight myself.”

It’s Malcolm’s turn to be surprised... again. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“When I’m not with you and CJ, I am  _ always  _ thinking about you and CJ. When my bed is empty, I wish you could be there to warm it with me. When I see new and exciting places, I wish I could share them with my little girl. I see ads for princess movies and wonder if she’s seen them - what she thinks about them. I worked a recovery case with the FBI and the entire time I couldn’t stop thinking about how much better it would have been if you were the agent I was forced to work with. When friends talk about their kids, I wish I had more stories to tell. Hell, when I watch mystery movies, I hear your voice in the back of my head through the whole thing, sixteen and insufferably telling me every little thing that they get wrong or doesn’t make sense. And until this year, when I tried so fucking hard to stay away, I was able to mostly just accept those things as consequences to my decisions, that those were the prices I had to pay to keep from anyone getting too attached to me. But I can’t any more.” 

Vijay comes to a sudden stop right in front of Malcolm who is torn between feeling sorry for Vijay and wanting to slap him. He drops down to his knees so that he’s looking up at Malcolm, puts his hands on his legs. For the first time in years, though, the touch isn’t sexual. It’s an attempt to be warm and comforting and simply connected. 

And Malcolm’s desire for it to be gone is more substantial than he’s ever experienced before. 

“I want us to be a family,” Vijay says with a crack in his voice. “I want to get it right. You can tell me what we had was a teenage crush that lasted too long, nothing but lust, or shared trauma or whatever psychobabble you want to use. But it wasn’t. I know it wasn’t. We were connected. Malcolm and Vijay. The corner table boys. Just you and me through thick and thin, us against the world and I know we can have that again.” He’s staring up at Malcolm with such wide eyed earnest that Malcolm is kind of speechless. 

Or rather, there’s actually a million things he wants to say and absolutely no fucking clue where to even begin. 

“CJ wants me around. I want to be around. I want to be her dad, I want to be your partner.” He reaches up with one hand and cups Malcolm’s face, thumb brushing a flake of snow from his cheek, and Malcolm is far too dumbfounded to say or do anything about it. “I want us to be a family, Baby Boy.” 

Malcolm stares at Vijay in complete shock, stunned at his words and even more so by how much yearning is in his voice. Vijay really, truly,  _ wants  _ this. He’s not playing around. He’s not putting on a show. His eyes are still cloudy with more unshed tears.

He has no idea how long he sits there, floored, before the sound of a door slamming inside the apartment snaps him out of it.

“CJ…” Malcolm stands and moves to go back inside but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm, holding him just tight enough to keep him in place but not hurt or mark.

It’s exactly what Malcolm needs to completely shake off the bewilderment that had caught his tongue and reignite the anger.

He rounds on Vijay.

“No,” Malcolm’s blood is boiling so much, he doesn’t even feel the cold now that he’s out of the confines of his thick blanket. “Fuck no. You want us to be a family? You’ve had eight years to do that Vijay. Eight  _ fucking  _ years to simply show up. To stick around longer than a few days. You have never, not  _ once  _ in the entire time I’ve known you, done anything to show that I should believe this about you right now.”

“You’re not even going to let me try?” He sounds offended, and kind of surprised. 

But that’s Malcolm’s fault. He’s always been a pushover when it comes to the Alpha in front of him. Going with his schemes, his plans, his ridiculous ideas… And all he’d had to do was talk with just the right tone of voice, touch Malcolm just the right way, give him that fucking crooked little smile of his...

Not any more. 

“TRY?” Malcolm balks. “You don’t get to  _ try on  _ being a parent like a suit! You either are a parent or you aren’t. You don’t get to decide one day that you don’t like it, that it doesn’t suit you, and then just go back to the way things used to be. Or worse. Vanish for good after making her think she’s finally gotten what she wants. Do you know how devastating that would be to her? How crushed she would be? How much I would  _ hate  _ you for what you’ll do to her when you decide to give up?” Malcolm doesn’t miss how much  _ that  _ affects Vijay, how he flinches and bites his lips to keep them from trembling. “You change jobs every time you get bored. You go through significant others even more frequently. And you have no idea how to be a parent.”

“What, like you did when she was born?” Malcolm can tell Vijay’s words are supposed to cut, but his voice cracks halfway through and Malcolm doesn’t know if he’s proud or concerned that he doesn’t care. 

“At least I stuck around to figure it out from the beginning,” he bites out.

“I didn’t exactly give you a choice,” Vijay says as if he actually feels guilty about something.

At that Malcolm shakes his head and wrenches his arm out of Vijay’s grasp. He knows that the Alpha could easily grab him again, close the distance in a heartbeat, but it’s all Malcolm can manage at the moment. 

“Everyone has a choice. I chose to have CJ. I chose to keep CJ.” The only conversation they’d actually had about their options had been adoption, and once Malcolm said it out loud, he had realized it was just so he could say he’d thought of everything. Vijay had hemmed and hawed and never really given an opinion one way or the other - which he would have had to as her other parent. “You think I couldn’t have found a way to not be a parent if I had wanted out like you so obviously did? I choose, every single day, to wake up and care for her and love her and give her everything I am.” Malcolm actually steps closer, catches Vijay’s gaze and makes sure his next words are crisp and as clear as he can possibly make them.

“You chose to walk away.”

Closing the distance between them was the wrong thing to do. It allows Vijay to lean in, to curl an arm around Malcolm’s middle, to brush their noses against one another. He can feel Vijay’s breath warm and sweet against his lips.

“I don’t want to walk away any more, Baby.”

This close, that strong earthy scent that’s been the only one to draw him in and capture him so thoroughly since he was a teenager, is nothing but a memory trigger. There’s no pull, no temptation to keep him, no yearning like he’d felt even as recently as a few weeks earlier. 

It’s a pleasant moment of reminiscing, there and gone again in the blink of an eye, and not what he wants or needs any longer.

“We will  _ never  _ be a family in the way you want, Vijay,” Malcolm steps back, shaking his head. “And whatever else happens, you’re just going to have to accept that.”

For the first time in his life, Malcolm seems to have gotten through to Vijay. 

He wants to feel bad for the devastation that breaks across his face, but Malcolm simply can’t find it in him. If he allows those feelings any space they’ll take over, and he’ll comfort him, and comfort and touch always leads down the wrong path. 

But that path will never be an option again.

For a long time, they both stand there in the cold and silence, tension ready to snap between them. But once it becomes clear that Vijay doesn’t have anything else to say for the moment, he turns and heads back inside. 

He has no idea how much - if any - of that conversation CJ heard. They weren’t trying to keep too quiet and the windows and glass door aren’t exactly soundproof. 

It could have been her just getting up and going to the bathroom and not paying attention to how hard she closed her door behind her. No matter the case, he has to check on her.

But he needs pause. 

He can’t go in there and let her see him like this.

Malcolm is seething. 

Somewhere deep - way deep - in his heart, he knows that at the very least he needs to try and figure out how to let Vijay learn to be a dad and still keep CJ as protected as he possibly can. But now is not the time to figure that out. Not while his ears are ringing and his hands are shaking with anger that he doesn’t even know how to get a hold of in the moment. 

No, what he needs to do now is take a deep breath, get his emotions under control enough that he doesn’t give anything away, and check on his little girl. 

He stands just in front of the fireplace, leaning against the mantle while looking over their small and sparsely decorated Christmas tree, watching the lights blink slowly and counting his breathing with each one until he doesn’t feel ready to crawl out of his skin any longer.

Once he’s collected himself, Malcolm makes his way to CJ’s room.

When he opens the door, his heart turns to ice and he forgets how to breathe.

It’s empty.


	9. Sorry, Virginia

# 

#  Chapter Eight

_ Sorry, Virginia... _

Gil stares at the list of names that he and JT have whittled down to just a dozen. 

He rubs his eyes and lets out a yawn. 

It doesn’t make the list any less blurry.

Working late isn’t exactly something he does often anymore, but sometimes there just isn’t a choice and he’s desperately grateful for his mother and how much she’s willing to do for him and Lizzy. They’d caught two new cases that morning that are going to be taxing, and even worse to track down what they need during the holidays than it usually is. Dani and JT are both taking the leads on them, and Gil is left following up on his art theft case on his own. 

But this is the first chance he’s had to sit down with it all day.

And he isn’t getting anywhere.

The problem is, that while the first and last victims had hired the same company, the other two had been private hires of people to whom they’d been recommended or met at other parties in the past. While that doesn’t exactly rule  _ out  _ all the people who work for Carbon Copy Entertainment, it does make it less likely to be an inside job on their part. 

Which is good, since the company has hundreds of employees that do everything from Santa gigs to celebrity impersonations.

At the moment, he’s trying to focus on typing out the details of their latest Santa who got taken out so he can compare his story and habits to those of all the others. He doesn’t exactly have a lot of hope he’ll get anything new out of it. If there’s nothing connecting the others so far, there isn’t a high probability one new factor will. 

When his cell rings, Gil checks the caller ID and actually hesitates.

He’s managed to avoid speaking to, or thinking about, Malcolm all day so far. 

When they’re not actively working together, it’s actually somewhat easy to do during the day. Gil has always managed to be able to compartmentalize enough to keep ‘out of sight out of mind’ his first and foremost goal when it comes to his emotions while on the job. He doesn’t know how he’s going to  _ keep  _ working with the kid now that he’s accepted - even if he can’t act on - how he feels about him. 

Worse, is Lizzy’s apparent interest in the two of them. 

He hadn’t called her out on her and CJ’s attempts to keep pushing him and Malcolm together. In fact, he hadn’t said anything to her about it beyond how they hadn’t been acting safe out on the ice. 

Honestly, the less he thinks on it - on all of it - the better. 

For everyone.

Gil sighs, then clears his throat, picking up just before the phone goes to voicemail. 

“Hey Malcolm.”

“Gil, thank god.” Gil instantly sits up straight in his chair on high alert. Something is very clearly wrong.

“CJ ran away.”

Sometimes, he hates being right.

“Tell me everything.” Gil is up and grabbing his coat before he gets the first word out. “I’m on my way.”

While Gil double times it through the station, Malcolm explains what's going on. He tells Gil how he and Vijay had a fight after CJ had been put to bed. It wasn’t anything explosive, no insults hurled or yelling going on, and he’d  _ thought  _ they’d kept it to themselves out of ear shot. But she must have heard something - and Malcolm is thin on the details as to what might have set her off - because he heard her slam her door and when he’d gone to check on her less than half an hour later she hadn’t been in her room. Gil can hear the terror in his voice as he continues on to explain that they’d searched every inch of the apartment before calling building security to check the footage, only to spot her walking out the front door bundled up in a coat with a small bag clear as day.

At the front desk, Gil, heart hammering in his chest and doing everything he can to remain calm for Malcolm, grabs the officer on duty. 

“I need an APB put out for a missing little girl. Her name is Clarrissa Jane Bright. Seven years old. Four feet even. Long, dark brown hair and blue eyes. Last seen leaving her apartment building alone on foot at 210 Central Park South about forty five minutes ago wearing a thick pink puff coat with a fur lined hood and black pants and boots.”

He hadn’t even needed to ask Malcolm the standard questions since Malcolm knows the drill. All too well. Which also means he knows the statistics and Gil can hear the tremor in his voice and the edge of panic that could be a full blown attack if Gil doesn’t offer some sort of stability for the kid to lean on. They don’t know which direction she went. Malcolm tells him he has a parental account for the messenger app she uses but that it doesn't actually let him see the conversations she has with her friends, just review all the pictures and videos they share. So that’s a no go. 

Plus, her tablet only works on wifi, so there’s no phone signal to track.

While making his way to his car, Gil has the brief thought that he needs to get something for Lizzy after this - probably whatever Malcolm winds up getting for CJ after they track her down. Because they’re going to track her down. Tonight. Right now.

“I need to,” Malcolm changes direction in the middle of a thought and then stops again. “I need to do something but I can’t remember what I should be doing next.” He sounds so lost and Gil just wants to reassure him that everything is going to be okay, hold him and help him feel safe. 

But he can’t make promises that he doesn’t know one hundred percent sure he’ll be able to keep. 

And it’s not what Malcolm needs right this second, anyway. 

No matter how much Gil wishes it were true.

“What you need to do right now is take a deep breath, and stay where you are. It’s entirely possible that she will come right back, that she’s just gone off for some purpose only she knows or to cool down and she’ll turn around and want to come home. She’s smart. She’s resourceful.” CJ also has a metro pass that Gil had to get for her when he was taking the girls around town a few times. She knows how to use it, and he’s hoping she’s headed for his house, though he hasn’t voiced it. 

Malcolm hasn’t been able to come up with any other options, though as hard as he is trying, it’s clear he isn’t exactly thinking that straight at the moment. 

To be fair, Gil’s not doing much better.

“I’m going to hang up for a few minutes and make another call. You’re going to call your mother and let her know what is going on. Tell her to keep her eyes open. CJ could be heading that direction. I’ll have officers patrolling that route, okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. That makes… that makes sense. Maybe I’ll round the block again, too. But what if…”

“Malcolm,” Gil interrupts him. His chest is aching and his hands shake but he keeps his voice as cool and calm as it ever is. “Walk the block if you have to. But call your mother. I will call you back in just a few minutes, okay?”

It takes him a little longer, but Gil does eventually get Malcolm to drop the call. He’s in his car a second later, turning the ignition before setting his phone in its cradle so he can call his own mother and warn her to be on the lookout for CJ as well.

But she calls him first.

“Mom, I...”

“Gil, I’m so sorry baby,” she starts, sounding just as frazzled as Malcolm had. “But I can’t find Lizzy anywhere.”

His heart drops through the bottom of his stomach like a hot piece of lead.

“Say that again?” He manages to breathe out after a long, heavy fucking pause.

“We put her to bed around the normal time and everything was fine. When we went up ourselves, it felt cold in the hall so I checked around the bedrooms and found her window open and her not in her room.” She keeps going, but it’s all static in Gil’s ears.

Gil takes a deep breath.

And then another.

He counts to ten… twenty…

The panic settles.

“I know where she’s gone,” he assures her as confident as he can be in this situation - which isn’t much. “Stay at the house. I don’t want you wandering around in the dark. I’m going to have a unit dispatched and there in just a couple of minutes.” 

“It’s just so cold out there and I haven’t even looked to see if she took a thick enough jacket. Your father took a spare and a blanket and is making the trek up to that little corner store she loves so much. But it’s not safe, Gil, I…” If he lets her, she would ramble on. It’s how she panics, how she works through all the thoughts in her head because if they aren't stuck up there, then - by her own admission - she can figure out which ones sound ridiculous to worry over while hearing them herself. 

In this case, he doubts anything will assuage her fears.

“Don’t, mom. This isn’t your fault. She would have done the same to me if we’d been at home.” He tries to think of places the girls would have tried to meet up at if she had been and keeps drawing a blank. “As a matter of fact, I’m glad this happened at your place and not ours because I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for her in that case.” Gil curses as he swerves around a vehicle that hasn’t pulled over far enough for him to get by easily. “She’ll be grounded ‘til the world ends, but we can worry about that when she gets home  _ tonight,  _ alright? I’m going to hang up now I have other calls to make. But you send me a text then call if she comes back home, and I’ll keep you updated.” 

There’s a sniff and a mumble of something that could be ‘okay’ on the other end of the line and then it cuts out. She’s never been one to stick around when she knew he’d be better off left to get his work done. 

Gil picks up the radio and barely waits long enough for dispatch to acknowledge him.

“I need to get someone on the line with North Bergen and get a unit out to James J. Braddock Park playground. They’re looking for Clarrisa Jane Bright, and Elizabeth Marie Arroyo.” He gives the descriptions and is barrelling through the roads, siren blaring, as fast as his Le Mans will take him. After making sure that whoever gets to the girls first will keep them there, he cuts off with dispatch and hits the speed dial on his cell. 

Malcolm picks up before the first ring is through.

“Have you heard anything?”

“I’ll be at your building’s front door in less than a minute.”

“I’ll be here.”

And just as he’d promised, Gil is screeching to a halt in front of Malcolm’s building less than sixty seconds later. He doesn’t even come to a full stop before Malcolm throws open the door and scrambles into the front seat, gesturing for Gil to keep moving as he does so.

“Where are we going?” It’s obvious Malcolm has regained some of his own control. There’s an edge to it, and his hands are shaking worse than Gil has ever seen, but he keeps his gaze forward and his voice is as steady as it can be given the circumstances. 

“The park a few blocks from my parents’ place.”

“Why…”

“Lizzy slipped out, too. There’s one of those two person swings there that we nearly have to pry them off of every time we make our way to the park. I’m pretty sure they think of it as their own private club house. Plus, CJ has made the trip with us from there to your place enough that she’s smart enough to figure the train goes in both directions.” One day, the two of them will plot the downfall of the world as they know it from reinforced plastic bucket seats. But right now, it’s his best hope of finding them. 

“This is all my fault, I..”

Gil stops Malcolm by reaching across the seat and grabbing his shaking hand tight in his own. He entwines their fingers and gives the younger man a light shake to make sure he has his attention. 

“This is not your fault. Kids do stupid shit all the time. You even ran away several times,” Gil reminds him. 

“Of course I did. But usually to your place.” Malcolm cracks a rueful smile. “And here, I thought I was doing a better job than a serial killer and a traumatized, high functioning, alcoholic, helicopter mother.”

Neither of them have let go, their hands resting together in tight clench on the leather bench seat between them. “In defense of Jessica, she did the best she could while dealing with her own issues.”

“I know.” Malcolm sighs and shakes his head.

“But still,” Gil continues. “You are doing a great job. Shit happens, kid.” At this he gives Malcolm’s hand another little shake. “Kids overreact, do stupid things. It’s part of growing up and learning how to make mistakes, and we do what we can to prevent them from making the worst ones, but we can’t predict everything.”

Just as they descend into the Lincoln Tunnel, Gil sees Malcolm staring at him with a considering look. “You’re really not mad at me for this?”

Honestly, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

He reassures Malcolm not just with his words, but with a small, gentle stroke of his thumb against the back of the younger man’s soft hand.

“Not even a little.”

There’s silence for several beats. Gil wishes he could properly look at Malcolm to get a sense of where his head is at right now, but all he can manage are quick, fleeting glances that don’t give away much at all.

“How are you so calm about this?”

“I am the opposite of calm. This is a giant disguise ingrained in me from decades of police work. I could throw up right now if I knew it would do me any damned good. Plus, I  _ know  _ where they are,” he says, confidence a little more genuine the closer they get to their destination. “So that helps keep me moving forward.”

Sure enough, the second they’re out of the Lincoln Tunnel, dispatch comes through with an update that a unit is on the scene with the girls and is sitting tight, waiting for Gil and Malcolm to arrive. 

Gil is so relieved he feels the first set of tears start to stream down his face. 

There are two cars on the scene when he pulls in, idling with their sirens off but lights still flashing bright and jarring into the frozen night sky. 

Malcolm bolts from the Le Mans first, Gil right on his heels. 

Right where he expected them to be, CJ and Lizzy are curled up in their thick winter coats on the lower half of the two person swing. Malcolm slides onto his knees at the last second and wraps his arms around his little girl, taking Lizzy with him since she seems to refuse to let go of her best friend. 

The relief that floods through Gil’s body leaves him light headed, seeing them whole and in one piece right in front of him. He takes the briefest of moments to show his badge to the two officers standing near the swing set, then all but forgets they’re even there.

Though he’d managed to force a sense of calm over his reaction for the last forty-five minutes, it all vanishes when he drops to his knees next to Malcolm, tears streaming down his face. He’d never felt fear like that in his entire life. 

When they’d been losing Jackie, those last few months, he thought he had known what pain and terror had felt like. But he’d still had Lizzy, still been able to hold onto his little girl, hold her tight and in comforting her taken just as much comfort from her mere presence. But the idea of losing her, losing the last of the little family they had built together, had left him so frightened, so shaken, he doesn’t even have the words to describe what’s going through his pounding heart in the moment.

Malcolm seems to be at a complete loss for words.

So Gil speaks up first, latching on to Lizzy’s shoulders.

“What the  _ hell _ do you two think you were doing?”

Neither wants to answer, that much is obvious, looking to each other and back to Gil and Malcolm several times. They shake their heads and shrug their shoulders. 

When Malcolm pulls back just enough to breathe, he sniffs, but looks at CJ with his brows knit tight and a frown on his face. “Answer him, CJ. I know this was your idea.” 

For a moment she looks shocked but then crumples in defeat. 

“It’s not a big deal,” she mumbles.

Gil balks. “Not a big deal? Do you know how dangerous it is out here? This city is  _ massive  _ and full of people who could have spotted you two and taken you away before you ever made it to the park. Or even after you got here, but before we showed up.” He turns to Lizzy, anger beginning to take the place where the vanishing fear has left a massive vacuum. “And YOU should know better. I’ve taught you better your whole life, Elizabeth Marie. Me and your mother. And your grandparents.”

“But CJ was upset, and…”

“So you decided to sneak out in the middle of the night?” He nearly yells. No, he is yelling, so he takes a deep breath and tries to get his tone back to something that resembles even and calm. He’s learned from years of experience that the louder he is, the more she’ll shut down. “Tell us what was so important that you couldn’t work this out over your messenger or talk about it the next time you saw each other.”

She purses her lips, looking contrite. But still, refuses to answer. 

Malcolm sighs and strokes CJ’s cheeks that are dirty and tear stained though she doesn’t seem to be actively crying any longer. “Was this about something Vijay and I were talking about?” He asks, glancing briefly at Gil and looking almost as guilty as the girls. 

CJ takes a long, deep breath, then nods.

“I heard you talking. I heard what he said to you.” She goes from scowling to scared and back again over and over before finally settling on something that looks like a 50/50 mix of both. “He wants to be a family. He wants to stay and be my dad and I want him to be my dad but I… he makes you so sad, daddy. No matter what he does.”

Malcolm’s shoulders slump. Which tells Gil she’s not even the slightest bit wrong, or heard something and misinterpreted it. “He makes you sad, too, baby.” He doesn’t even refute her first claim. That Vijay wants to stick around and be not just in their lives, but an important part of it. 

The tiny, selfish part of his heart that has gotten used to seeing Malcolm and CJ only slightly less than he sees Lizzy curls up in anger and he almost chokes on it. 

But he keeps his mouth shut.

CJ rolls her eyes. “Not in the same way. And, I mean, I really don’t want him to leave but… he doesn’t make you happy like Gil does. I don’t  _ want  _ to be a family with dad, I want to be a family with Lizzy and Gil, because they’re here, and they stay, and they love us and we love them. But you always do what he wants. You let him do whatever he wants and you’re going to let him do this too, and it’s going to ruin  _ everything _ .” She’s furious and the tears are pooling in her eyes once again.

Neither Gil nor Malcolm seem to have an answer for that at first, both of them looking at each other with their lips parted and a bit dazed. They knew the girls had been trying to get them to cozy up to one another, but they had no idea their ploy had been this serious. 

And the worst part is, it’s what Gil wants too. As much as it pains him to deny that anything like that could ever happen, he has to be real with CJ and LIzzy - and with himself. 

“What do you mean, ‘ruin everything’?” He asks quietly. “CJ, sweetheart, your daddy and I aren’t together. We’re all friends, but…”

“But you could be!” Lizzy pipes up, voice full of hope and eyes bright as her gaze darts back and forth between Malcolm and Gil. “CJ saw it first, but I see it too. You’re so good together, and happy. I know you love him, daddy, you just have to tell him and it will all work out!”

Malcolm shakes his head, eyes clouded with unshed tears. “Even if that was true,” he starts, voice a touch shaky and looking like the words are painful to say. “It really doesn’t work that way.”

No matter how much Gil wishes it could.

“But it IS true, daddy!” CJ exclaims. “You love him! And…”

“CJ,” Malcolm’s voice is harsh, but broken. “Enough.” 

“No! You’re not listening,” she gestures between herself and Lizzy, voice growing in anger and frustration with every word. “We both know this would work. We  _ can  _ be a family.”

“I even asked Santa for this,” Lizzy points out, surprising Gil. “And he said…”

“Oh,  _ my god,  _ LIZZY!” CJ seems like she’s had enough of all of this and rounds on her friend. “Santa isn’t  _ real.  _ He’s just a silly man in a stupid suit. Everything we get comes from our parents and if this was ever going to work we had to make sure to do what we needed to. There’s no such thing as magic or we wouldn’t have had to do everything we’ve tried so far. And it would have still worked.”

Malcolm looks angry at CJ and opens his mouth, obviously to rebuke her for such harsh words, when Lizzy sits calmly back down on the swing and speaks in such small, broken words that the rest of them fall completely silent while Gil’s heart shatters for his baby girl all over again.

“You think I don’t know that?” She says, staring at the ground. “Of course he isn’t real, CJ. If he was, I would have gotten mommy back LAST year.” Her shoulders go up, entire upper body trembling while she obviously tries to hold in place the dam keeping back her tears. But it isn’t enough, and they come flooding out with a broken sob.

Gil has her scooped up in his arms a moment later.

“Instead,” she continues curled up against his chest but still looking out at CJ and Malcolm. “All I got was you and your stupid ideas that were never going to work in the first place.”

Everything goes still around them.

“Lizzy…” Gil says her name softly, kissing the top of her head as she buries her face in his shoulder and Malcolm looks on, shocked. 

His own tears are falling, heart twisted up for her at the amount of pure pain she’s ripped out and put on display for them all in such a few short words. Everything is a mess and he holds her tight, watching helplessly as the tears fall freely down CJ’s face. 

“You didn’t think they were stupid before,” she says, bottom lip trembling. 

“Well I do now.” Lizzy sniffs and wipes her arm across her face. “They obviously weren’t going to work and you don’t know your daddy as well as you think you do.”

“You take that back!”

“Lizzy…” Gil tries to interrupt, but Malcolm is just loud enough when he speaks they are all focused on him.

“Both of you, stop,” he says, tone making no room for arguments. But then he softens. “Take deep breaths, okay? CJ, it’s true that Vijay asked if we could be a family. But I told him no.” He rubs his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears. “I don’t want to be with your father, and while I will let him keep being your dad if, and only if, you want him to be, I have no intention of ever being with him again, okay? He’s hurt us both too much for that.”

CJ gives him a curt nod which is a bit undermined by a small hiccup. “Good.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can just throw ourselves into a different family, either.” Malcolm looks back up at Gil with a sad smile on his face, then refocuses on his little girl. “Gil does make me happy. He’s…. He’s my best friend, and one of the best men I’ve ever known. But he’s got his own life, and his own family he has to think about.” 

“Do you love him?”

“I…”

There’s a long stretch of silence where Gil doesn’t breathe. 

He can’t see Malcolm’s face as he looks away, and doesn’t know what he expects, or even what they  _ should  _ say in this situation. 

“You should apologize to Lizzy for yelling at her,” Malcolm eventually goes with after a heavy swallow. 

“Lizzy?”

Lizzy picks her head up off Gil’s shoulder and looks over at her best friend then nods.

“I’m sorry. I know you miss your mommy and I’m sorry I yelled at you and I know all my ideas are stupid, I just…” she chokes and trembles a little. “I just really wanted us to be a family because you had one but I haven’t and now I know it was never gonna work but I love you so much.”

Before Gil can react Lizzy twists out of his hold and hops to the ground, throwing herself between Malcolm and CJ to latch onto her friend in a massive bear hug that the younger girl returns instantly. 

Malcolm sits back on his heels and gives them space.

They stay like that for a long time, comforting each other with the occasional soft sob escaping between them.

Gil and Malcolm share a heavy look, full of understanding of the hurdles of childhood friendship and no small amount of apprehension. They don’t say anything. They don’t need to. Not right now, and definitely not right here. 

They will need to, though.

If they’re going to get through this, if they’re going to support their girls through this, they’ll have to talk about it.

But helping the girls comes first. They’ll need to take them home - to their own homes - and sit them down and help them through everything they’re feeling. They’ll need to understand exactly what the girls were expecting and find a way to manage those expectations about life and love and family. 

And then, at some point when he’s feeling brave, Gil wants to know Malcolm’s answer to CJ’s question.

When both CJ and Lizzy start to shake in a way that is obviously more shiver from the cold than from crying, Gil steps forward and puts his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Alright, girls. It’s time to head home. We’ve all been out here too long and we’ve obviously got a lot to talk about. But we need to do it somewhere warm, and in our own homes.”

Malcolm nods, lifting CJ up to her feet and putting an arm around her shoulders. “And I need to figure out your punishment for this. Something more reliable than ‘grounded for life’.” 

CJ sniffs. “Last time you grounded me for life it lasted two days,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Last time you just snuck your tablet after bedtime to watch a movie. CJ,” he says, kneeling down once more. “You  _ ran away  _ in the middle of the night. Not only that, you put Lizzy in danger too by asking her to come out here with you.”

“But I didn’t mean - “ 

Malcolm holds up a hand. “It doesn’t matter what you  _ meant.  _ What matters is what happened.” 

“What matters right this second,” Gil interrupts, “is getting to the car and turning on the heater.”

For a second it looks like Malcolm is going to say something. If Gil knows the kid - and god does he know him - it will probably be something about not riding with them but calling a car to take them back to their place. But Gil holds up a hand to stop him and simply points to the Le Mans. 

When Malcolm nods and leads CJ in that direction, he knows he was right.

Gil makes sure to text his mother that he has Lizzy and is taking her home before he gets the car started up.

The ride home feels like it takes ages.

No one speaks.

At one point, he peeks in the back seat expecting to see one if not both of the girls fast asleep, but they’re both wide awake, leaning against their respective windows and watching the world go by with pensive looks on their faces. 

Malcolm isn’t any different, though Gil keeps catching the occasional glance from him, looking away quickly again every time he’s caught. 

The radio plays nonstop Christmas music, upbeat and cheerful every second of the drive.

But Gil isn’t exactly feeling it right now.

None of them are.

  
  
  
  
  



	10. Second Chances

# 

#  Chapter Nine

_ Second Chances _

  
  
  
  


“Is he still here?”

It’s pushing eleven and CJ should have been asleep hours ago. After the excitement of the evening, he expected to have to carry her up to their apartment. 

But she seems like she’s still fully charged and ready to go.

“Yes. Your dad stayed behind in case you came home while I was gone,” he tells her, not letting go of her hand even once they’re in the elevator. Usually, they only walk hand in hand outside. 

But not tonight.

And probably not for a long,  _ long  _ time. 

She is still staring at the ground, pouting and seemingly more angry than upset. “I don’t want to see him.”

Malcolm drops to her level immediately, tilting her face with a gentle touch so she’s looking into his eyes. “CJ. You scared us  _ both  _ to death. I was literally panicking and you dad wasn’t much better off. I know you’re upset, and angry with him. And  _ you  _ know that normally I would never make you see him - or anyone - when you don’t want to. But in this case, I’m making an exception.” 

Vijay has done a lot to earn Malcolm’s ire and distrust over the years. For once, however, CJ’s anger is not his fault.

“Why?”

“Because you have to learn that while what your emotions do in response to something may be out of your control, you are one hundred percent responsible for how you actually react to things. If you had come and talked to us, or just waited for us to talk to you, we would have explained things. I would have explained things. What was going on. Given you a chance to have your own say. Haven’t I  _ always  _ done it that way?” His voice cracks near the end, the adrenaline crash making him exhausted. The nagging doubt in the back of his mind that he’d somehow made her think she couldn’t trust  _ him  _ to do what he’s always done isn’t helping either. 

As a matter of fact, it feels like a ten ton anvil sitting on his chest, slowly killing him. 

_ ‘You always do what he wants.’ _

Malcolm swallows, holding back a fresh batch of tears.

Though her nod is reluctant, she seems to accept what he’s saying and some of the anger fades from her features. “Yeah.” 

“So right now, we’re going to go into the apartment, sit down with your dad, and we are all going to talk about how we feel.”

She doesn’t respond to that, and Malcolm doesn’t expect her to.

As he had expected, Vijay is immediately at their side the moment the door opens, trying to bend down to scoop CJ up into his arms. But she ducks out of the way and hides behind Malcolm’s legs. It’s the first time she’s been openly hostile in front of him, usually hiding her fears and her pain at his inattention for when he’s not around.

But it appears she’s over that.

“CJ…” Vijay croaks out, taking a step back with a confused frown on his face.

In that moment, something clicks for Malcolm.

Her whole life, Vijay had been the kind of dad to do his own thing, ignore her requests and thoughts and desires for whatever his own flights of fancy had been. Like dragging her into a hug, insisting she do things she didn’t really want to, or - most notably - calling her Rissa constantly despite how much they both reminded him not to.

Vijay isn’t just saying he wants to change, to try harder to be there for her.

He is actually doing it. 

Malcolm helps CJ out of her coat. “Go wait for us in the living room, okay?” She sulks off in that direction. While Malcolm removes his own coat and hangs them in the entry closet, he speaks quietly to Vijay. “I’ll deal with her punishment tomorrow. But tonight, you get  _ one  _ chance to make your case for sticking around.  _ Just  _ as her dad. Got it? No talking about you and me, or what I should or shouldn’t do. This conversation is going to be Vijay apologizing to his daughter for being a shitty fucking dad and asking for a second chance.”

Vijay bites at his bottom lip and nods. “Yeah. Right. Absolutely.” He glances behind him then back at Malcolm, looking a little lost. “What if she says no?” There’s a tremor of fear in his voice and for the first time in probably a decade, Malcolm actually almost feels bad for him.

He sighs, and shakes his head. “Then you stay away. You send her notes, and phone calls, and reminders of how much you love her. And if she changes her mind in the future and asks for you back, I let you know you’ve got another shot.” Malcolm doesn’t wait for a response before slipping past the Alpha and through the apartment to where CJ is waiting for them. 

When he gets there, he finds CJ curled up under one of the thick blankets he keeps on the couch during the winter months, staring at the fireplace with a scowl on her tiny, round face. He doesn’t want to crowd her, but he needs her to know he’s close enough for her to grab onto if she needs it, if she needs him. So Malcolm sits just off to the side, close enough that if she slumps over it’ll be right into his arms. 

Neither of them say anything, and it takes a little while for Vijay to finally join them.

And when he does, Malcolm notes that he walks like he’s walking to his own execution. 

With the soft sound of the gas fireplace the only thing filling the air, Vijay silently lifts one of the arm chairs and moves it around so he can sit in it and face CJ directly.

She sits up a little when he does that.

But she doesn’t say anything.

For a long time they both sit and look at each other, CJ cautious, Vijay tense. Malcolm’s never really seen the man be a  _ fidgeter  _ before, but he can’t seem to keep his hands still and keeps playing with the cuff of his long sleeve.

Eventually, he sighs.

“CJ. I - I want to talk to you about something, okay?”

Slowly, CJ nods in acknowledgement. 

Vijay takes a deep breath, and Malcolm holds his.

“I want you to know that I love you,” He starts, shifting forward a little as if to reach for her but then thinks better of it, letting his elbows rest on his knees. “I love you so damn much. And I am sorry, for everything. For leaving you all the time. For never being here when you and your daddy needed me, or even just wanted me around. I was selfish and stupid and worried that if I stuck around I’d just screw everything up. But I screwed up anyway. I screwed up big time. But I want to do better. I want to make it up to you.” 

He scoots forward again and looks like the next words hurt. 

“If you’ll let me.”

Malcolm can’t stop the small smile from spreading on his lips and brings his hand up to cover it. It’s not that he’s  _ happy  _ to see Vijay struggling to say the right thing. But for the first time, Vijay is  _ trying,  _ and he’s making a damned good honest effort of it. There’s no way to know for sure how CJ will react to any of this, and Malcolm watches her closely. 

She seems to be thinking over what he’s said so far, staring right back at her father with a considering look. 

CJ purses her lips. 

“Keep talking,” she says with her eyes narrowed and a sharp nod.

A massive smile breaks out across Vijay’s face and he looks like he can breathe again.

“I took a new job here in New York. I start in January.” Malcolm balks and stares at Vijay in shock. This is the first time he’s hearing of this and as shocking as it is, it makes sense with the way he’s been acting the last couple weeks. “I’ll still have to travel sometimes but not anywhere near as much. I can be here to walk you to school, and be at your shows, and your class parties.” 

“Can I stay with you sometimes?” She asks, visibly perking up and leaning forward. 

To Malcolm’s continued surprise, Vijay looks to Malcolm before he answers. While he doesn’t want to commit to  _ anything  _ right now, he doesn’t want to say no outright. So he shrugs, and gives a ‘maybe’ tilt of his head.

“I want you to,” Vijay tells her. “But we’ll see. I’m still looking for a place and I have to make sure it’s perfect, right?”

CJ scoots forward and adjusts so her feet are on the ground and her knees are almost next to Vijay’s. “I can help you with that. I helped daddy find this place!”

“I’m sure you were exceptionally helpful,” he says. There are tears starting to pool in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Do you have any other questions?”

It’s likely CJ has a ton of questions, and she even opens her mouth to obviously start a tidal wave of them but is interrupted by a yawn taking over every inch of her body, from the wide way her jaw stretches to the way she curls her back and holds her arms out wide. 

When she’s done, she stares up at Vijay with a bright, hopeful gaze. 

“Read me a story?”

The tears finally fall down Vijay’s face and he just nods, seemingly unable to answer out loud. He lets out a soft sob when she throws herself into his arms and he curls tight around her, holding her close and burying his face in her messy hair. 

When he picks her up, Vijay gives Malcolm another questioning look, but Malcolm waves him off. “Go read her a story and tuck her in again. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Silence fills the air again once they’re gone and Malcolm is left with nothing but his own confused, exhausted thoughts. He could pass out here on the couch just by letting his eyes stay closed a little too long. Physically, emotionally, mentally, he’s so fucking tired. The ups and downs of everything of the last few hours have taken everything out of him.

And he still has to parse through it all. 

Through what Vijay wants. How much Malcolm is willing to give him. How he can protect CJ while still giving the man a chance. Then there’s CJ’s punishment for running away, having to figure out how to make sure she understands that it’s the repercussions for her own actions. What he needs to do to reinforce the importance of coming to him with her problems. Even when those problems  _ are him.  _

He doesn’t even want to touch on the Gil and Lizzy problem. 

There’s no doubt that his silence when CJ had asked if he loved Gil had spoken volumes - that he’d given himself away. How is Gil going to react to that once the concern for the girl’s safety and mental health isn’t so overwhelming there isn’t room for anything more? 

What else has he irreparably damaged tonight?

As much as he hates to have to do this, Malcolm clenches the hand that’s trembling uncontrollably in the blanket in front of him and stands. He’s crashing. And he’s crashing hard. If he wants his mind to even out and be able to get anything that resembles actual rest, he’s going to need an Ativan. 

On his way to his bedroom he passes CJ’s open door and pauses long enough to see her curled up under her blankets, Vijay sitting at the head of the bed with a book quietly reading. He doesn’t do any of the voices, and he isn’t really a  _ performer  _ while reading. But that doesn’t seem to matter to CJ in the slightest, who simply looks over the fucking moon to have him there with her.

As content as she looks, and as serene as the whole scene is, it only makes his heart rate faster. The worry and anxiety that it’s a fleeting thing, that Vijay will just disappoint them both all over again hasn’t magically gone away. Honestly, he doubts it ever truly will, having been such an integral part of who they are since the very beginning. 

Quietly, he slips away, forcing one foot in front of the other until he’s in the master bath, staring at the top shelf of his medicine cabinet and trying to catch his breath and get  _ something  _ under control before he reaches for the bottle he needs so he doesn’t send everything on the shelf crashing down around him. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Cupping his hand to bring just enough water to his lips, Malcolm downs his pill.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Each slow, steady count to five helps him center. He has no idea how long he stands there, letting the sink hold him up, counting each and every breath until he’s doing it without thinking again. Until he can quiet his thoughts enough to open his eyes, to move again.

Though his heart is still racing, and his hand is still shaking, Malcolm makes his way out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. He still has one last thing he has to do before he can actually - finally - crash. 

He’s halfway through an ice cold glass of water and feeling the first subtle tell-tale effects of his medication when Vijay quietly slips into the kitchen and sits on one of the bar stools. 

Vijay’s gaze traces Malcolm’s form head to toe, lingering on the tension in his shoulder and the way his hand is still subtly shaking at his side. He drops his head onto the counter with a heavy sigh. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, Malcolm.”

All Malcolm can do at first is nod. He takes another long draw of his water then clears his throat. “For?”

A humorless huff of a laugh is Vijay’s immediate response before he picks his head back up and catches Malcolm’s gaze. “Where would you like me to begin?”

“Why don’t we skip the apologies for now,” Malcolm suggests with a sigh. “I’m too tired to deal with them and don’t need to second guess their sincerity for the moment.”

For a heart beat Vijay looks like he’s going to protest that but then he nods in defeat. 

“Did you really take a job in New York?”

At that Vijay gives him a small smile. “Yeah. Braun Underwriters. A competing agency to Magellan’s, which is why even though I don’t start ‘til next month, I had to leave as soon as I accepted their offer. Same basic gig, but focused primarily in New York with travel only necessary when a case dictates I hunt something down.”

Which means he’d taken the job  _ before  _ he ever even showed up at Malcolm’s front door.

“Damn,” Malcolm runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve been planning this out for a while, haven’t you?”

“All fucking year,” he admits with a wide and earnest gaze. “I wasn’t lying when I said you two have been all I’ve been thinking about.” Malcolm opens his mouth to argue but Vijay cuts him off. “No, no. I get it. You’re off the table. And I’m going to respect that, I promise. It’s  _ killing  _ me, but I’ll respect it. But I can’t give up this second chance with CJ. And even if she tells me to get lost tomorrow, I’ll still be here in New York if she wants to see me.”

“Well you better make the most of this chance,” Malcolm warns him. He tries to push off the counter and realizes he’s swaying a bit so he takes another deep breath. His bed is calling, and it’s loud. “Because you aren’t getting another one.”

“Trust me, I get it.” 

For once, Malcolm believes him. 

“I should go,” Vijay stands with a frown but Malcolm shakes his head and gestures back out to the couch. 

“After tonight? You need to stay. Be here when she gets up.” He yawns and can’t even bother hiding his exhaustion anymore. There’s enough going through his head that he can’t even think of what else they’ll need to talk about, work through, it’s all just static as he starts shuffling off towards his room. 

“We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

Malcolm doesn’t stick around to see if Vijay listens, but he doesn’t doubt for a second that he does.

  
  


Half an hour after dropping CJ and Malcolm off, Gil and Lizzy are shaking off their coats in their own home. She tries to bolt up the stairs off to her room when Gil stops her. 

“Oh no, living room. Right now.” He gives her a stern look and waits while she quietly contemplates her response. But eventually she simply nods, and heads off in that direction. 

Alone for the first time in hours, Gil takes a deep breath. The anger and fear and frustration that has built up and churned in his gut and under his skin is slowly killing him. He doesn’t know how he’s kept it together this whole time. Doesn’t know how he’s still fucking  _ standing.  _ He barely stops himself from slamming his fist against the heavy wood of his front door in frustration, forcing another deep breath.

In.

Out.

Even though he’d had a long time to think about what he needs to say now, he’s still drawing a blank. There’s so much, though he suddenly realizes exactly where he needs to begin.

“You’re calling your grandmother,” he calls out before entering the living room himself and handing his wide eyed child his cell. “And apologizing.”

Lizzy blinks at the phone lying in her hands and gapes. “Right… right now?”

“Yes, right now. Do you have any idea how upset she was? How much you scared her?”

“I’m sorry, daddy, I…”

“No more apologies to me. Call Gran and tell  _ her. _ Yourself.”

With a sniff and a nod, Lizzy unlocks the phone and brings up the contacts, hesitating for just a moment before taking a long, deep breath, and dialing.

Gil sits on the chair across from where she’s perched on the edge of the couch. Normally he leaves her alone for phone calls, makes sure she knows she can say anything to her grandmother whenever and however she wants without his intervention. But this is important. She needs to understand the consequences of her actions and make sure she’s honest about it all as well. 

Not that he’s ever even  _ thought  _ to doubt her honesty.

Of course, he’d never thought she’d ever run away before tonight, either.

Delila reads her the riot act. The phone doesn’t need to be on speaker for Gil to hear every word of it. It’s loud, and angry, and  _ hurt,  _ and so,  _ so relieved _ . Every single emotion that comes through her words is a reflection of what he’s been going through all evening. Lizzy cries again, big, fat tears, stronger with every sobbed out apology she makes and promises to never,  _ ever  _ do anything like that ever again. 

Though it hadn’t been his intention for his mother to do the heavy lifting when it came to explaining just how badly she had screwed up, it sort of works out that way. 

When the call is done, and ends with both Lizzy and her grandmother in tearful ‘I love yous’ Gil takes the phone back, turns it off, and moves to sit next to his daughter. 

“Are you starting to get an idea of how much you scared us tonight?” He asks, voice quiet and calm. He doesn’t even force it. There really isn’t much energy for anything more.

Lizzy nods and shifts closer, looking up at him with a question in her eyes like she’s not welcome to snuggle up any more. But Gil just wraps an arm around her and tugs her close, making her start a fresh flow of silent tears against his chest. 

“You scared me to death, baby.”

“CJ needed me.” She whispers. 

“I know. And while I’m happy you care about her, and want to be there for her, I’m not so happy that it put you in danger. Your mom and I have been telling you from the day you were old enough to walk about the rules of this city, about when it’s okay to be outside, who you have to be with, where you can go.”

He doesn’t get a verbal response from that, just an enthusiastic nod even as her tears soak into his shirt.

“Next time, you need to tell an adult that something is wrong, okay?”

“I didn’t want to get her in trouble.” She has always worried about being a tattle-tale. Especially with a cop as a father. Lizzy has always been aware of not wanting to be labeled as a goody-two shoes by her friends, but that doesn’t stop the fact that she has an inherent  _ need  _ to do the right thing.

“Do you remember what we used to talk about? About when you should tell on someone and when it’s probably okay not to?”

“Sort of?”

Fair enough. It’s been a long time since they’ve had to. But now definitely is a good time for a strong reminder.

“If someone is doing something that isn’t safe, either for themselves or someone else, you  _ have  _ to let an adult know. Especially if you care about them. They may get mad at you for it, but it’s better to be safe, and make sure  _ they’re  _ safe, right?”

Lizzy nods again with a sniff and they both fall silent for a long time. 

Eventually, she looks up at him. Her tears seem to have stopped for now, thankfully. “She was really upset,” she says and Gil doesn’t even have to ask any more about that. He understands. The kid thought her world was getting turned upside down again less than a full year after it already was once. 

“You want to tell me about what you and CJ have been up to?” 

At that, she looks away, cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “Not really,” she mumbles.

“Elizabeth….”

Lizzy sighs and flops back down against Gil’s chest as if in defeat. “I just… It started because we wanted to be sisters. And that sounded - sounds - amazing. I love her. She's my best friend and I want her around forever. It was kind of silly and I didn’t think it would work. But…”

When she trails off and doesn’t seem like she’s going to continue on her own, Gil pulls her back and lifts her chin up with a gentle finger. 

“But…”

“When I really looked, I just…” She smiles and it’s a sad thing. “I remember this day a few weeks ago, when we were at CJ’s place. You laughed at something Malcolm said, and then you had this big smile on your face. You never look like that anymore. And I thought maybe, if CJ’s plan could really work, you could be happy again.”

Something in Gil’s stomach twists at the thought that Lizzy has noticed that. That he’d been so obvious in both his pain, and the change that Malcolm had made in him in the last couple of months. 

More than that, she’d seen it before he did.

“You could see I wasn’t happy?”

“It’s kind of plain as day, daddy. It’s the same with me, though. I will always miss mommy, and I still want her back, but it also feels good to be silly again, you know?”

God, does he ever. It feels  _ so  _ good to laugh, to smile, to see Lizzy looking forward to things again and excited to see people and just… have fun and be a kid.

“I do, baby,” he assures her with a smile. “I really do.”

She wipes away the last streaks of her tears and sits back, giving him a considering look, eyes narrowed and brows drawn. If she weren’t still holding onto him, he has no doubt her hands would be on her hips. “So you love him?”

Gil sighs.

“Lizzy, I told you, it’s not that simple.” 

“That’s not a no.”

One of these days, he’s going to stop getting out maneuvered by an eight year old. 

“You love CJ,” he tries. 

But she just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like a sister,” she says as if Gil is being purposely obtuse. Which, in her defense, he absolutely is.

“So why would it be such a stretch if I -” Lizzy cuts him off with a  _ look.  _

“Daddy. I’m almost  _ nine. _ I know the difference.”

“And you’re too smart for your own good, apparently. But it doesn’t matter. We’re friends. Just like you and CJ are friends. And that’s how it’s going to stay. That’s how it’s got to stay.”

She definitely doesn’t look convinced - probably because Gil is well aware he doesn’t  _ sound  _ convincing. But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn't change that it’s too much, that it wouldn’t work, that he can’t chance what they’ve already built. What they have  _ now.  _

Not to mention that he’s still holding onto so much guilt just about how he feels that he doesn’t even know what to do with it all. 

He really wishes that love was as simple as their children make it out to be. 


	11. Mistletoe Should be Banned

# 

# Chapter Ten

_Mistletoe should be Banned_

Malcolm almost doesn’t go to the Christmas party they’re having at the station the following day. 

He’s worn out and still feeling the after effects of his body attempting to spiral into a massive panic attack. But both Vijay and CJ insist that he should go, that he’d been looking forward to it ever since he was officially invited and he can’t really deny that. It’s been a long ass time since he’s been included in anything communal with people he worked with more than once - or gone somewhere to relax on his own as an adult and not with a kid in tow. 

Not that he’ll likely do much relaxing, of course. Not with Gil there. 

They haven’t had a chance to even text each other since the night before, let alone really talk. And Malcolm is well aware that they had both avoided the subject of what the girls had been up to just a little too much to not have their silence speak for them. At least, Malcolm’s silence. 

The station is decked out. Every holiday, apparently, each department goes head to head in a decorating contest that has gotten more and more extravagant over the years. Christmas lights and garland hangs everywhere. There are mylar balloons and foil decorations seemingly over every inch of some of the desks - whether that was planned or pranked, Malcolm doesn’t know. But it puts his own decorations at home to shame. Though to be fair, any amount could do that. They’ve got three stockings on the mantle and a pretty pathetic tree (especially compared to Gil and Lizzy’s) and _that’s it._

He finds Dani first, wearing a shiny, deep red loose fitting top and laughing with Officer Daniels who is still in uniform and probably _technically_ on duty. They both smile and wish him a Merry Christmas as he approaches and some of the apprehension he’d felt coming in slips away, replaced with a comforting warmth. 

For at least a quarter of an hour, Malcolm manages to actually chat and make small talk with a few people, including Dani, JT, Edrisa, and several of the officers from around the unit. It’s better than he’d assumed, and even when Gil comes out of his office and joins them Malcolm is, for the most part, at ease.

The fact that he doesn’t have to face Gil alone, and that Gil doesn’t act any differently when he sees Malcolm, is definitely a huge contributing factor to the ease of Malcolm’s smiles. 

Gil is in the middle of telling a grand, ridiculous story of a manhunt from a few years ago where their suspect kept making stupid decision after stupid decision when another officer joins them and interrupts. 

“Lieutenant?” It’s not one of Gil’s men, but someone who works in a different department elsewhere in the building. “We’ve got uh… _something_ for you at the front desk?”

He seems confused, and quite a bit amused, so when Gil makes his apologies and excuses himself Malcolm follows him, interested in what might be going on. 

“Think someone got you a stripper?” Malcolm quips in the elevator, making Officer Bryant snicker and Gil roll his eyes. 

“Don’t joke about that,” he groans. “That actually happened once and I’ve only recently stopped hearing about it.” Gil glares over at Bryant who makes a zipping of his lips gesture to indicate he won’t be the one bringing it up again any time soon.

Turns out, Malcolm was at least partially right.

Sitting at one of the desks in cuffs being processed is a large, older man with a long white beard and hair of matching length, gently wavy and looking rather clean and put together.

...other than the fact that he’s in his polka dotted boxers and a white tank and absolutely nothing else.

At the next desk over, two other officers are going through a large red sack with gloves and a clipboard, cataloguing each piece of artwork as they carefully pull them from their thick, black, metal canisters.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Gil stops when they see the scene and gapes. 

“And what happened to your suit?” The officer speaking to the suspect asks. 

“I had to give it back,” the guy says and then clamps his mouth shut with a deep set frown. 

Bryant gestures to the activity with a shrug. “Davies found him on the front steps about ten minutes ago with a big red bow tying his hands together behind his back and that sack of goodies sitting next to him. Refuses to say why he’s ‘voluntarily turning himself in’ or who put the bow on him. But I figure, why look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially since it’s Christmas and all.” 

While Gil takes another moment to process everything Malcolm can’t hold back on his mirth any longer and lets out a quick, bright laugh. He’s got a pretty good idea exactly who is behind all of this, especially after the suit comment, and from the look Gil gives him he’s well aware, too.

They only stay long enough for Gil to make sure the officers on duty have everything under control, noting that there’s quite a bit more artwork there than had been reported on. But since Gil doesn’t actually _have_ to do anything right this second - the guy can sit in a cell overnight while they work on the paperwork - he talks to the officers for a few minutes and then tells Malcolm they should return to their party. 

Besides, the actual paperwork is going to be a bit arduous given that once they ran his prints he hit on no less than a dozen outstanding warrants from _all over the globe._

Malcolm can’t help but think that Gil is going to get a massive Christmas bonus for this, if not a nice raise.

Waiting at the elevator when they get there is none other than Nicholas de Bari, in full Santa regalia, and carrying his own beautifully embroidered sack of gifts. 

His suit is elegant, but subtle and well worn. The fur is bright white and gleaming, the wool of his jacket a deep, dark red. The embroidery that lines the cape around his shoulders is muted but no less intricate than what Malcolm had seen on the items in his shop.

He’s got a mischievous glint in his eyes when Malcolm meets his gaze.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Gil deadpans with a barely hidden smirk of his own. 

“Who? Me?” Nicholas asks with a wide grin. “I just came for the party, Lieutenant Arroyo. But I did see on my way in that it looks like you got an early Christmas present.”

Gil nods, rubbing at his goatee with a soft hum. “Wonder who could have been so generous.”

“Oh come on, Gil,” Malcolm chides with a barely contained chuckle. “It’s a Christmas miracle, right? You’re not supposed to question it.”

Both Gil and Nicholas laugh as they all step into the elevator. “You should listen to your friend. The Magic of the Holidays is mystical and elusive, and if you think on it too much, you’ll just give yourself a headache.” 

“I guess I’ll just have to count my blessings that this _particular_ Christmas miracle is sticking to his story that he’s turning himself in of his own free will due to an over-abundance of guilt.” He pauses, then looks directly at Nicholas with his brows raised high. “Despite being a lifelong art thief who has been eluding international agents for decades…”

The elevator opens then and Nicholas leaves first with one last, silent smirk over his shoulder. 

“Maybe you should pay _him_ as a consultant instead.” Malcolm says.

Gil turns to Malcolm the second they’re out of the elevator and puts a hand on his shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze and a beautiful fucking smile. 

“And give you up?” He shakes his head. “Not a chance, kid.”

When he walks away Malcolm stands there, frozen to the ground. 

The heavy sincerity in that simple statement floors him. His heart pounds in his chest, stomach twisting up in knots. He must look like an idiot standing in the middle of the hallway with his jaw hanging wide open, but Malcolm can’t seem to make himself actually move. 

But it shouldn’t be that jarring, should it? 

Gil has proven time and time again that he won’t let things get to him, or get between them. Disagreements, arguments, all out verbal fights in the station once or twice always ended peacefully. They always worked it out. They _always_ end the day on a good note. Even the awkward situations they had been finding themselves in lately (thanks to the girls) never made any difference on a day to day basis.

Malcolm forces himself to move, close his mouth and rub at his shoulder where Gil had laid his hand. He feels simultaneously relieved and a bit stupid for worrying over any of this. He will have to learn to live with his crush, but Gil will _never_ give up on him.

The party feels a little brighter when he finally rejoins the crowd, catching a few of the people around the office opening shiny paper wrapped gifts, putting their bows onto each other's heads, and generally full of excitement and joy. 

Dani nearly knocks him over when he comes around the corner of one of the cubicles as she streaks by on a scooter, laughing louder than he’s ever heard her. Once she hits the end of the row of desks he hears a shout of excitement and JT declaring loudly “Thirty-eight point two seconds. The record to beat!” 

She dismounts with a joyous, breathy laugh while someone else grabs the scooter and prepares to take off for their own timed trial. 

“Finally got that Razor scooter, huh?” Malcolm asks with a wide smile.

It takes her a moment to catch her breath - more from the laughter than any physical exertion - but she gives him a wide, toothy grin that he’s never seen before. After nodding, she leans in and says quietly, “Thank you.”

Malcolm shakes his head, gesturing to the group at large where people are still being handed gifts from Nicholas’ seemingly never-ending bag. “I didn’t do any of this. Santa just showed up.”

Dani’s smile only shrinks a touch and she looks far from convinced. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, we did mention your scooter question to him the first time we met to discuss the case,” Malcolm says with a smirk and a shrug. “He said you didn’t get it because you only wanted to terrorize your siblings with it.”

Dani’s smile vanishes and she frowns at Malcolm with a tilt of her head. “He’s… not _wrong._ ” She admits, looking as perplexed as Malcolm suddenly feels. For a moment they just stare at each other, both obviously trying to work through the confusion. But then she pouts. “But I _really wanted it._ ” 

That has Malcolm laughing again even as another round of cheers goes up from the course finish line. “Well, you’ve finally got one,” he says. “And it looks like you have a title to defend.”

She’s leaving him behind before he’s finished speaking, yelling about bald heads and aerodynamics being considered cheating. Of course, that entirely ignores the fact that it was Daniels who beat her record and he’s still in full uniform.

Malcolm circles the room, getting shown off gifts here and there, sharing in the excitement of some of the more unique items being unwrapped. He even takes a turn on the scooter run, which has become a full on obstacle course by that point. Though his run time is absolutely abysmal, Malcolm is laughing too hard at the end of it to really care or to take JT up on the offer of a redo. (Apparently his time is even worse than he thought since a little while later he realizes literally no one else got the same offer.)

Every now and then, he’ll catch sight of Gil from the corner of his eye. Or hear his laugh. And Malcolm gets distracted from whatever he’s doing. Though he keeps telling himself he’s not _purposely_ avoiding the man, he can’t help but notice how he always moves on shortly after Gil gets a little closer. 

He really needs to get out of his own head for a second about this and just enjoy himself. Enjoy the people he’s here with. 

Malcolm excuses himself to head off to the bathroom for a minute. A second to breathe and a splash of cool water on his face should do the trick. 

As he’s rounding the corner on his way to escape, he quite unexpectedly runs into Gil. 

Literally.

And here Malcolm had thought he'd known where the man was at all times...

It's a quick collision of bodies, Gil reacting first with his hands out to keep them both from toppling over. 

Malcolm curses. “I’m so sorry, I was kind of lost in my own thoughts.”

“It’s alright, I promise. We should probably get a mirror for this corner, to be honest.” Gil’s smile is beautiful as always, eyes warm and hands still lingering on Malcolm’s arms.

They’re _kind of_ alone, and he wants to at least get out a half decent apology for the previous night given that it was entirely his fault - despite what Gil had assured him.

And of course, to make sure they’re good.

God, he hopes they’re good.

“Can I steal you for a second?” He asks Gil, stepping off to the side. They wind up in an empty, open doorway for a dark office. Thankfully, Gil lets his hands drop once they’re out of the middle of the hallway.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

This close - _christ,_ why did he pick a fucking doorway - Malcolm can pick up the subtle hints of the Alpha’s scent that has been driving him nuts most of his life and been absolute _torture_ the last couple months. So he swallows heavily, and forces himself to nod.

“Yeah. Everything is great. Well, I mean, great enough, I guess… I just… I wanted to apologize. For last night.”

He watches Gil inhale slowly, sees his eyelids flutter closed for the briefest of moments as he visibly has to stop himself from reaching for Malcolm. 

Malcolm’s heart flips in his chest.

“I told you that wasn’t your fault,” Gil insists. He’s not angry or frustrated. It’s more… sad. “I sat down with Lizzy and we talked everything through. She’s accepted her punishment for _her_ actions and it’s all fine, I promise. I’m assuming you did something similar?”

Though Malcolm sighs, he nods. “This morning, yeah. Last night we dealt with… other issues. But I wasn’t really talking about what they did more about… what they said.” He looks away, down at the floor in the dark office and bites his lip. “And what I didn’t.” 

There’s silence between them for a moment, though the chaos of the party still echoes all around them. It has basically become white noise at this point. 

Gil’s answer comes with a soft exhale that’s warm and sweet to Malcolm’s senses.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Malcolm responds quietly. Another shout comes from down the hall. It sounds like someone else has broken a scooter record. “I know this isn’t really the place but it is kind of driving me insane and I just…”

“Malcolm,” Gil tries to interrupt, saying his name like it’s something important, like he’s as twisted up inside as Malcolm is right now. 

But he needs to get this out, he needs to make sure nothing is going to change, because as much faith as he has that Gil won’t give up on him completely, that doesn’t rule out the fact that it leaves a lot of room for stepping back.

“Please,” he begs him. “I need to say this.”

“Malcolm, stop.”

The only reason Malcolm doesn’t scream in frustration is because Gil does something that makes him freeze from head to toe. 

Even his lungs seize up.

Gil grabs Malcolm’s hands and pulls them up to his chest, stroking his thumbs over Malcolm’s knuckles.

Malcolm can’t breathe. 

His brain sort of short circuits and all the sounds around them vanish, as do any other stimuli outside of _Gil’s_ hands holding onto _his._

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he assures him quietly. “The girls are smart.” Gil lets out a huff of a laugh, lips quirked to the side in a sad, regretful smile. “Observant.”

It takes a moment for Malcolm to respond, mouth gaping while he stares into Gil’s eyes, his brain spinning and trying to right itself once more with this new information. None of his understanding of their relationship fits with these new pieces. They’re all the wrong shape and he doesn’t really know what to do with it yet. 

“Unlike their dads,” he eventually gets out. 

“Unlike their dads.” Gil chuckles softly. Then his face falls and Malcolm’s heart follows it. “But…”

There are entire encyclopedias of information in that one single word. So many reasons that he must have for not saying anything, not taking that step. Every single excuse Malcolm had made for himself has been about what would happen if Gil found out how he felt, when he turned him down. If their friendship was irreparably damaged because Malcolm couldn’t keep his feelings hidden. 

Gil is standing in front of him, telling him _he knows_. That maybe, he feels this too, or something like it. 

And yet, it’s not enough.

He’s not enough.

Of course, he can’t really blame Gil.

Malcolm puts on the best smile he can manage, even though he knows it wouldn’t fool anyone. “But like we told them,” he has to clear his throat and it still doesn’t make the lump choking him go away. “It really doesn’t work that easily.” 

He is desperately trying not to read too much in the kaleidoscope of emotions that go across Gil’s features. 

“There’s just… so much.”

“With the girls,” Malcolm offers.

“And CJ’s father,” Gil says. Only he’s so, so wrong. Yes, Vijay is going to be around again, but when it comes to Malcolm’s heart, Vijay’s been out of the running for a very long time. 

But of course, Malcolm doesn’t correct him. Instead, he adds, “And you’re still…” He can’t even say it, grieving, missing the woman he’d loved for several decades. But Gil seems to understand, biting his bottom lip with a nod. Malcolm can see the grief in his eyes as he swallows heavily. 

Both of them seem to realize they’re still gripping tightly on to one another at the same time They drop their hands, and Malcolm leans back as far as the door frame will allow. 

It takes a lot of effort to move away from him.

Neither says anything for what feels like ages and Malcolm can’t even look the Alpha in the eyes. But he needs to. He can’t walk away with everything still so messed up and confused in his head and not be completely certain that they can keep things the way they’ve been. 

“Gil… I need to know this isn’t going to change anything. CJ couldn’t handle it and honestly - “ Malcolm finally looks up and catches Gil’s gaze, not very surprised to see it’s gone carefully blank. “I couldn’t either.”

“I’m right there with you, kid. You have no idea how much you’ve changed our lives this year. You and CJ. I just… I...” 

He looks like he wants to reach for Malcolm again, and Malcolm would go, would fold himself into Gil’s arms in a heartbeat. But Gil just clenches his fists back by his sides and bites his lips. 

“It’s okay, Gil,” Malcolm tries to assure him even though it really, _really_ isn’t. There’s not a chance in hell he’s convincing anyone right now. But he has to put it out there, has to pretend that he hasn’t screwed up everything. “Can we, maybe, completely forget-”

“Oh! Look!”

Both of them have their attention snapped away by Edrisa who is nearly bouncing as she comes up to them with a roll of cloth clutched tightly in her hands against her chest. 

Malcolm swallows heavily. “What have you got, Edrisa?” he asks.

“What? Oh, this?” She holds out the roll of cloth but doesn’t open it. “It’s a set of travel embalming tools from _the 1860s._ ” She nearly squeaks but then looks at the tools and snatches them back to her chest. “But that’s not important. What’s important is _mistletoe!”_ Her gaze pointedly goes over their heads and both Malcolm and Gil follow it.

There’s got to be some sort of official rule against mistletoe in the workplace.

Seriously.

When he looks down and catches Gil’s gaze Malcolm blinks and has to swallow the thick lump in his throat. 

Because those deep brown eyes keep flicking between Malcolm’s eyes and his lips. And when Gil runs his tongue against his own bottom lip Malcolm’s brain short circuits and he thinks he may never function again. 

Gil _wants_ him.

And Malcolm _still_ can’t have him.

Clearing his throat, Gil shakes his head and reaches up to pluck the offending plant from where it’s attached to the door frame. 

“Sorry Edrisa. No mistletoe at the office.” He steps back and turns away, giving Malcolm a quick, sad glance over his shoulder before walking off.

Edrisa looks kinda put out, and mumbles something about not being the one to put it there. 

Though it takes Malcolm a moment to come back to his senses, he takes in her frown and slumped shoulders and forces his own issues away for a moment to try and cheer her up.

Leaning in, Malcolm gives her a quick peck on the cheek.

Suddenly, her entire face flushes and she looks at him with wide eyes. 

“You can’t just ignore mistletoe,” he informs her. “It’s like, bad luck or something.”

“Right!” She giggles and holds a hand to her cheek, almost dropping the tools and fumbling to catch them last second. “Are, um, are you uh, staying around for a while?” Her grin is lopsided and she keeps glancing back and forth from the ground to his face like she’s trying to force herself to maintain eye contact.

“It’s getting kind of late,” he tells her with an exaggerated tone of regret and a shake of his head. He needs to get out of here. He needs to go home and process.

And try not to cry.

“I really need to get back to CJ.”

“Of course! Of course, you are… such a great dad. I hope you both have, just, an awesome Christmas.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas, Edrisa.” Malcolm gives her a small smile and a nod before turning away and heading towards the elevators. He won’t be saying goodbye to anyone else. Can’t chance getting caught in any more conversations, or worse, running into Gil again.

It’s probably rude, and he honestly hopes no one really even notices. But he’s not exactly above using CJ as an excuse when he really needs to - as long as she isn’t around of course. 

Unfortunately, someone does notice.

“Cutting out a little early there, aren’t we?”

Malcolm closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He still hasn’t figured out Nicholas - and Malcolm _always_ figures out people pretty quickly, especially when they’re involved in a case. He really doesn’t want to face that shortcoming right this second. 

“Looks like you are, too,” he notes, opening his eyes and catching Nick’s playful smile. 

“Well, tomorrow is Christmas eve,” Nicholas points out as if it’s the obvious answer. 

Honestly, the worst thing about this guy is that Malcolm genuinely can’t figure out if he’s delusional or just a really good actor. Extreme dedication to a craft and mental health issues can have blurry lines of separation at times. 

“Right, how could I forget.”

He wishes he could. 

Malcolm grimaces, realizing how bitter and rude that sounded. “I apologize,” he says before Nicholas can say anything. “I know you are busy, especially right now, and that this was probably out of your way in the grand scheme of things. It meant a lot to the whole team and I doubt any of then will forget tonight for a long time.”

As if planned, a shout of excitement breaks through and despite _everything,_ Malcolm grins. 

“It was the least I could do to thank Major Crimes for helping take care of someone who was besmirching my good name.”

Finally, the elevator doors slide open and they both step in, Malcolm gesturing for the older man to go first.

“But you’re right, I do have quite a lot to get done, starting very soon, as a matter of fact.” Once they are moving, Nicholas leans in close to whisper, despite there being no one else in the elevator with them. “I still have the wishes of two adorable little girls to fulfill, afterall.” He gives Malcolm a considering look. Malcolm looks away, feeling almost _too_ seen. “And, I think, you have one of your own as well?”

Malcolm really needs this elevator to move faster. 

For some reason, as much as he wants to brush this all off, to forget everything and find a way to hide every emotion very deep, he realizes he’s too tired to hide any of it. 

And the lump in his throat making his voice crack would give him away anyway.

With a heavy sigh, and a sad sideways glance, Malcolm admits, “I think I’ve given up on wishes, to be honest. Haven’t exactly had the kind of life where they come true very often, or… at all… really.”

Something in the way Nicholas looks at him makes Malcolm pause. There’s something in his gaze, a sadness, or an understanding, as if the man _knows._ There’s sympathy there, too, and it just makes everything else worse. 

He nods slowly, accepting Malcolm’s words. But then the corners of his mouth lift slightly and he looks hopeful, which is more than Malcolm thinks he could muster in the moment. 

“Ah, but I think, Malcolm, that you would be surprised what one could accomplish with the right moment and just a little Christmas magic.”

Thankfully, the doors to the elevator slide open to the ground level just then and Malcolm is able to make his escape, throwing his manners out of the window with a muttered, "I'll believe it when I see it,” as he brushes past. 

He just barely catches the soft reply of "I'm sure you will, Mr. Bright. I'm sure you will."


	12. All I Want for Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whose final chapter is mostly porn and _almost_ hit 10K?
> 
> Dis bitch.

# 

#  Chapter Eleven

_ All I want for Christmas _

On Christmas eve, Gil tucks Lizzy into her bed with a kiss on her forehead and makes her pinky promise not to even  _ think _ about getting out from under her covers until the sun is up. And even then, she can’t go downstairs until Gil is up, too. 

That’s always been the rule.

Her excitement for the next day is still there but considerably diminished by now. Likely a combination of facing the actual holiday for a second time without her mother and everything else that has happened over the last few days.

Gil doesn’t exactly blame her. He’s pretty much feeling the same way.

They had done Christmas eve exactly as they had always done it. With the exception of the previous year, even before Lizzy was born, the tradition had been new, matching PJs and a movie. Then, there would be something warm to drink and cuddling in the new PJs as the movie played right up until bed time. 

Tonight, they had invited his mom and dad over to help celebrate the tradition, even got a set of sleep clothes for them, though they just put on the tops, since they still planned to head back to their own home for the night. 

But it had been the first time he’d done it without Jackie.

And then, he’d had to go and have the thought halfway through the movie of how much better it would be with Malcolm and CJ there. Gil had spent the next ten minutes - at least - of the movie in silent tears, a lump of guilt in his throat and hoping no one else would notice 

Delila noticed. Because his mother notices everything.

Thankfully, she just gave him a pat and an understanding squeeze on the knee, and stayed silent. 

It doesn’t help that he keeps finding Malcolm in his arms for one reason or another, and more frequently just waltzing through his head. Gil has lost count of the number of times he’s come close to kissing the kid. 

The party the evening before had probably been the closest he came to giving in. He had been this close to throwing caution to the wind. Thank god for Edrisa and her abysmally awkward sense of timing. Malcolm had already agreed there were too many factors in their lives, right? 

It’s too much, for both of them. And it would kill Gil to lose Malcolm just because Gil doesn’t know how to recognize whether this is just a fleeting sort of attraction or not after being alone so long for the first time in his life. 

Halfway down the stairs, Gil’s phone chimes. 

When he looks at the sender, Gil almost stumbles down the stairs in shock. 

It’s Malcolm.

——I know it’s bad timing but any way we could talk tonight after the girls are in bed? Maybe at my place?

Before Gil even takes a half a second to think about it he’s sending off the quickest response of his life. ‘Sure,’ is all he sends before he realizes what he’s doing. 

He can’t imagine exactly what Malcolm needs to talk about, not after the party. Not after they both made their own thin as hell excuses on each other’s behalf. Paper thin on Gil’s part, he’s sure. Though it could be as simple as Malcolm needing to have the issue resolved. As important as CJ is in his life, Gil can imagine that not being completely certain how things that could affect her directly are going to move forward could keep him on edge. 

“Mom,” Gil slips into the kitchen just as Delila’s putting the last of the leftovers into some tupperware. 

She gives her hands a quick wash. “Everything okay, love?”

“Everything is great,” he lies through his teeth. The look she gives him over her shoulder says loud and clear she sees right through him but is allowing it out of the kindness of her heart. “I need to ask if you and Dad could stick around a little while longer?” 

She dries her hands on the towel that hangs over the oven door handle, eyeing him closely.

“Work?”

He could keep up the lie. 

It happens enough that she would accept it.

“No,” he admits, looking away. “But something I really need to clear up before it becomes worse.”

A lot worse.

For both of them.

“Go,” Delila says. She clasps Gil on the shoulders and leans up on her toes for a quick peck on his cheek. “We will stay as long as we need to.”

Gil thanks her with a tight, lingering hug, then heads up to his bedroom to throw a thick sweater on over his shirt and put on socks and shoes. He leaves the pajama pants, since they’re a dark flannel pattern and lined with a thin layer of fur for warmth. If Malcolm wants to worry about him being properly dressed he shouldn’t ask him over at nine pm on Christmas eve.

It’s only while he’s waiting in traffic on the East end of the Queensboro bridge that Gil really stops and thinks  _ what the fuck  _ is he  _ doing _ ?

This is a terrible idea, but that fact that he didn’t even think twice, just dropped everything and came running the second Malcolm asked should say a hell of a fucking lot. And Gil gets that, he really does. 

The problem is that he doesn’t know how to  _ deal _ with that. 

Or even how he wants to. 

What does he want?

He knows Malcolm is attracted to him. That much is clear from their interactions over the last couple days at this point. But how deep does that go? Is it something simple? Something physical? Something more? Whatever his initial reasons were for answering Malcolm so quickly, those questions are burning enough to keep him from making his apologies and turning back around the first chance he gets. 

In what could completely on its own be called a Christmas miracle, Gil finds a nice wide open spot to park his Le Mans on the side of the road just a few steps from Malcolm’s building. 

But when he gets out of the car and sees Malcolm walking up to him from the opposite direction, he’s suddenly very confused.

“Gil?” Malcolm sounds genuinely surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?” 

“You asked me to come?” Gil responds with a bit of hesitation. “I told you I was on my way.”

“That’s not possible.” Malcolm gestures toward the entrance to his building with a bewildered look. “I left my phone at home. I just came back to…” he abruptly cuts off with his eyes open wide for a moment before he grimaces. “ _ CJ…. _ ”

“You’re going to have to explain what’s going on to me.”

“I guess… I… I swear I had my phone with me when we left for Mother’s home this afternoon. Would have bet my inheritance on it, even. But then when I went to take a picture of the Christmas eve present she opened, it just... wasn’t in my pocket any more. At bedtime she begged me to come back to get it so we would have plenty of pictures tomorrow. Probably would have done it anyway, though. But now… I’m sorry Gil. Whatever she said to get you out here. I thought I had gotten through to her about leaving this - us - alone. But I guess I didn’t.”

“No harm done, kid,” Gil assures him. They have both done their best but there’s only so much a parent can do when their kids are as stubborn and hard headed as the rest of their families. 

“At least come up and get something hot to drink so you didn’t make this whole trip over here for nothing,” Malcolm offers with a timid smile. “And maybe get a chance to warm up from this snow.”

He shouldn’t.

Gil should thank him for the offer and be on his way. 

Anything else is just asking for trouble and no small amount of torture. 

“Sure.”

_ Fuck. _

The ride up in the elevator is silent and more awkward than any moment Gil has ever spent with Malcolm in the entire time he’s known him. Neither seem to really want to chance glancing at each other, Gil noting out of his periphery that Malcolm is keeping a steady focus on the slowly changing floor indicator. 

His hand is shaking ever so slightly. 

And all Gil wants to do is grab it and tell Malcolm it’s all going to be okay.

Just inside the door, before turning the lights on, Malcolm makes quick work of his security panel. “Want coffee? Or something a little stronger?” He asks.

Gil is about to answer when he’s caught breathless by the sight that greets them the moment Malcolm flicks on the light switch.

Insead of the overhead light of the entryway coming on, Christmas lights entwined in garland line the top of the walls and various decorations around the shelves illuminate the space, the soft twinkle of multi colored lights giving it a true holiday glow. There’s a village with fake snow on his fireplace mantle, which is on and burning low, the perfect amount of warmth to chase out the winter chill already curling around Gil’s body. There are five stockings hanging from the mantle as well, thick, deep red with names embroidered into the cuffs in a dark gold. 

And the tree…

Gil is in awe. It’s larger than the one Malcolm had put up at the beginning of the season, fuller, far thicker, covered in coordinating silver ornaments but with the girls’ handmade ones taking up prominent positions and easily noticed in strategic spots. It looks real too, and the smell of fresh pine is subtle on the air. 

When Gil turns to compliment Malcolm on all the work they had put into the place he swallows his words at the look of pure confusion on his face. 

“Malcolm?”

Slowly, Malcolm begins to shake his head. “When CJ and I left today at four, we still only had our tiny excuse for a tree and three stockings hanging up…” He fiddles with his security pad and explains what he’s doing before Gil can ask. “I’m checking my alarm logs, but…” he looks up and stares at Gil even more confused than before. “That door hasn’t been opened since we left until just now.”

“Maybe someone is conspiring  _ for you  _ instead of against you for once and trying to give you a special holiday treat,” Gil says, wandering further into the apartment. 

Something under the tree catches his eye and he goes to take a closer look.

“My kid is resourceful, and smart, but I doubt even she could have pulled this off.” He walks closer as he speaks, obviously still quite lost and trying to take everything in all at once. “Even conspiring with my mother.” 

There isn’t an inch of Malcolm’s home that isn’t beautifully decorated for Christmas. Even the dining room is set for a small group of four with a floral centerpiece with sprigs of fir, red and white roses, and three lit candles. 

But Gil’s focus has been caught by a shiny red wrapped gift under the tree that he distinctly remembers leaving under  _ his  _ tree at home, with the intention of giving it to Malcolm at work the day after Christmas.

Apparently, Malcolm is in a similar situation.

“That’s the gift I got for you,” he says in almost a whisper, indicating the larger blue box that his red one is sitting on top of. “And I put it under my mother’s tree less than an hour ago thinking we’d stop by your place tomorrow afternoon.” 

When Gil pulls himself upright once more he finds that he and Malcolm are close, and he has zero desire to move away.

“This is weird, right?” Malcolm asks in a small voice. “Please tell me I’m not the only one that thinks this is weird.”

Gil gives in to the urge he’d had in the elevator and grabs Malcolm’s trembling hand in his, giving him a quick squeeze and then not letting go. 

“You’re not the only one,” he assures him, waiting for Malcolm to look back up at him before continuing. When he finally does, when Gil finds himself staring into those bright, brilliant blue eyes, illuminated by the soft christmas lights all around them and feeling warm and comforting by the tree and in front of the fire, Gil realizes he’s so tired of arguing with himself. He wants to keep looking, to be allowed to stare into his eyes whenever he wants. 

“However,” Gil gives Malcolm a soft smile which seems to make the younger man’s eyes light up even further. “Why don’t we take advantage of a  _ good  _ surprise for once. My gift for you is here. Yours for me is here. We’re here. Let’s go ahead and open them, before we both head home?”

Malcolm seems to sway a little closer, raising just a touch higher, and Gil can taste the sweetness of his breath on his lips when he breathes out a soft, “Yeah…”

Neither of them move at first, but eventually Malcolm lets out a quiet chuckle and bends to grab them both, handing Gil the blue box while he keeps the small red one. They take a moment to shed their coats, laying them both on the couch. Gil shakes his head with a smile. Only Malcolm would wear a full suit with a waistcoat to Christmas Eve with his mother. 

“You first,” Gil tells him with a nod. 

Malcolm doesn’t protest but does shake his head before tearing into the ribbon and paper like - well, like a kid on Christmas morning, honestly. 

He lets the wrapping fall to the ground, making quick work of the tape holding the small box shut.

The moment he has the lid pulled off, he gasps. “ _ Gil…” _

Tucked inside a thin sheet of tissue paper is a palm sized ornament in the shape on a pastel rainbow colored snowflake with a photograph in the center. It’s a nicer one he picked up at the workshop and the photograph he chose is one of his favorites from the entire year. 

It’s of the four of them - Malcolm, Gil, CJ, and Lizzy - from the night they decorated the tree at Gil and Lizzy’s place. Lizzy and CJ are at the center, laughing so hard their eyes are closed and their cheeks are flushed red. Gil and Malcolm have tinsel in their hair - he even has a couple hanging from his goatee - and look happier than Gil remembers feeling in a very long time. 

Malcolm, in awe, turns the ornament over and Gil actually hears his breath hitch as he runs his fingers over the inscription.

_ \- Our rainbow after the storm. Gil, Lizzy, CJ, Malcolm - 2019 _

“I wasn’t exaggerating yesterday. You and CJ have changed our lives so much since you moved back to New York,” Gil says quietly, trying to hold back the moisture already pooling in his eyes and working past the heaviness in his chest. “We were getting better, slowly, but you two… You’ve made it so much easier. You’ve made us…  _ happy _ again.” 

Malcolm cradles the ornament in his hand and brings it up to his chest, eyes closed, a single tear slipping down his cheek. 

“I thought being fired from the FBI was the worst thing that could ever happen to me and CJ,” he begins. “I lost the only job I had ever wanted to do - the only job I thought I’d ever be good at. Upended her life. Took her from her school. Her friends. And there was no telling how my mental health was going to hold up.” He looks up from where he’d seemed lost in the haze of lights on the tree to smile at Gil.

And takes Gil’s breath away.

“And then there was you. You didn’t just give me a job. You gave me support, helped keep me away from Martin when I kept thinking about going back. And god,  _ Lizzy _ . I don’t think CJ would have ever forgiven me for moving here if it hadn’t been for her. But more than any of that…” He swallows and gives Gil the widest, most beautiful smile. “You loved CJ too.”

All Gil can do is nod and bite his lip, chest too tight for words. 

Malcolm sniffs then wipes his cheek on his suit sleeve. “You should open yours,” he says, gesturing the gift in question.

The paper is metallic and thick, encasing a shirt sized box and wrapped with a silver ribbon and simple bow tied to the front. He’s able to pull at the end of the bow and let the ribbon flutter softly to the ground. Where Malcolm had ripped into his, Gil takes his time, popping the tape at each seam before pulling the paper free. It’s not that he’s trying to save anything of course - he just likes to savor his surprises.

Once he removes the lid, however, he almost wishes he had been, even if just for a moment, the kind of person to tear into his gifts.

Tied up in another length of silver ribbon are several thin, simple picture frames.

He stops breathing.

Gil had never been much of a picture taker. Most of their pictures of Lizzy are by herself. If one of them is in it, it is usually him. Because Jackie had that phone in her hand constantly. Snap snap snap. Always wanting to remember. To have the perfect shot. The perfect smile. The perfect moment. And he’d regretted it every single time he’d looked at all the pictures on their walls after she passed and had next to nothing of her on display.

But here, in his hands, are a dozen pictures of Jackie and Lizzy. They’re all from that first year, before Malcolm had CJ and then joined the FBI and never really had time to come home any more. He doesn’t even try to swallow the lump in his throat or hide the tears that begin streaming down his face. Words fail him. Every picture is unique, from a different time, a different month. They’re out in town and laying around the house, dressed in holiday outfits and sleeping in PJs. Gil stops on one of Lizzy, probably no more than a week or so old, in her footed pink monkey pajamas sleeping soundly with her mouth hanging open on Jackie’s chest, who is equally passed out in one of Gil’s sweaters laying back against the arm of their couch as if she hadn’t exactly intended to fall asleep there. He reaches his fingers towards it, but doesn’t quite touch, lips trembling and too many emotions going through his heart to count. 

The grief is just a soft undercurrent to what pours through him. 

Love. 

Love is what he feels. What he remembers. What warms his heart and flows through his veins to keep him going day after day.

It’s what doesn’t diminish or fade when he looks up to stare into bright blue, glistening eyes. 

It’s different, new, but no less all-encompassing. Overwhelming.

Slowly, and with great reverence, Gil takes the box and sets it aside. Then he turns back to Malcolm who is watching with apprehension, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Malcolm,” Gil steps in close, bringing a hand to the younger man’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the light flush of red. “I—”

“You don’t have to—”

Gil kisses him.

Thankfully, Malcolm instantly melts into it, reaching up to curl his arms around Gil and clinging tight. His lips are soft, mouth warm and inviting as he opens up to Gil, who takes his sweet time savoring every single second of the way they slide so perfectly together. 

He wants to give the man in his arms everything he has to give, every day of his life, and he’s done arguing with himself that Malcolm isn’t worth every risk in the world. 

Gil pulls back, smiling at the way Malcolm chases him. For a moment, he gives in, kissing Malcolm once or twice more before finally admitting without restraint or hesitation, “I love you, Malcolm.”

Malcolm stills with his eyes wide, breathless. He stares at Gil unblinking for a long time, as if he’s processing what he just heard and can’t quite believe it.

So Gil gives him a warm, soft smile, and says it again, just so he’s clear.

“I love you.”

It does the trick, as Malcolm’s face shifts into one of pure joy. “I love you so much, Gil. But I thought…”

“I was scared,” Gil admits. Because fuck was he ever. “I’m still scared. Terrified.” But everything else he’s feeling, everything else he wants, is too big, too important, to let that fear win.

“Me too. But… I love you. I want you.”

“You can have me. Have everything.”

Malcolm shifts so their bodies are completely flush against one another, rocking his hips in a slow, sensual curl so that the hard bulge in his pants drags against Gil’s. “Everything?” he moans.

In answer, Gil grips Malcolm tightly by the ass and tugs, then chases the resulting gasp from Malcolm’s lips with a deep, filthy kiss. 

They stand there entwined together for a long time, illuminated by the softly twinkling lights all around them and the warm glow of the flickering fire. The taste of Malcolm’s kiss is heady, his scent intoxicating to the point Gil doesn’t think he would still be standing if they weren’t clinging to one another. 

Slowly, Gil works Malcolm’s suit jacket off his shoulders, letting his hands drag down Malcolm’s arms. His waistcoat goes next, though Gil could admire the way it shapes his figure for hours, he’d much rather get it out of the way at the moment. 

He needs more, needs everything, and he wants to  _ taste _ . So he finally leaves Malcolm’s lips to kiss along his jaw, across the soft, sensitive flesh of his neck, teasing his teeth across the fluttering point of his pulse. 

Malcolm clings to Gil even tighter, a soft whine at the back of his throat sending a wave of heat straight to Gil’s cock.

They wind up on the thick rug in front of the fire, shoes kicked off who knows where and hands still exploring every inch of each other over their clothes. 

Gil grips Malcolm’s tie and slowly tugs it loose, silk sliding against silk with a soft whisper in their quiet sanctuary. As soon as that’s gone, he finds the top buttons of his shirt and begins to pop them one at a time until his collar is just loose enough Gil can trace the lines of Malcolm’s neck to his clavicle. Every kiss lingers, ghosts against smooth, pale skin with such a soft whisper Malcolm’s breath hitches with each touch and his body tightens in Gil’s arms. 

“Please,” Malcolm begs with an airy breath. “I want you so much.”

But Gil shakes his head, nipping at Malcolm’s ear lobe. “I want you too, but I like to savor my presents.” 

To punctuate this, Gil begins kissing slowly down Malcolm’s chest as each inch of skin is revealed by the next button he works open. Once the top of his shirt is wide enough to reveal the taut lines of Malcolm’s chest, Gil diverts his attention there, bringing his lips to one nipple and kissing and flicking it with his tongue, bringing it to a stiff peak while Malcolm squirms below him. The movement brings one of his legs up between Gil’s, providing a firm brush of friction to his aching cock so that when he begins to work the next one he’s a little rougher, sucks a little harder, grazes the pebbled flesh with just a hint of teeth. 

It earns him a sharp gasp from Malcolm and a hand twisted in his hair hard enough to tug. But when he starts to pull away to apologize, Malcolm yanks him right back down. It takes a second for Gil’s laughter to die down so he can do as he’s been told.

Eventually, he ends those particular ministrations by blowing a quick burst of air across the skin, smirking when Malcolm lets out a choked off curse.

But he is far from complete with his explorations. 

With a gentle touch, Gil traces the lines, the subtle dips and curves, of the fine muscles of Malcolm’s abdomen, mesmerized by the way they all twitch and jerk under his touch. He tugs at the fabric of the shirt until it comes free of his pants. Once he has it completely open, has Malcolm on display just for him, Gil takes a moment to take him in, to rake his eyes over every inch of his body, to drag his fingers up and back down his sides eliciting a breathy laugh at some of his more sensitive areas. 

Then he draws his fingers lower, traces the defined V of Malcom’s hips while leaning in to press a string of kisses down, from the center of his chest, to his navel, to just above the line of his heavily tented and obviously damp pants. 

Gil lingers there, paying close attention to each subtle and faded - but still visible - stretch mark, the signs that he’s carried, that he’s created life. 

He knows what Malcolm looks like carrying a child, but he can’t help the way his body reacts, how his cock throbs at the idea of Malcolm swollen with  _ his  _ child.  _ Their  _ child. 

As hot as that is, as much as his baser instincts  _ want,  _ it brings him up short.

“Shit,” Gil surges up to capture a startled Malcolm in another kiss, then speaks darkly against his lips. “Tell me you’re on birth control, Malcolm. Because I really need to fuck you and I-”

“Yes…  _ god yes  _ I am, please, don’t stop, Gil.” Malcolm can’t seem to decide what he wants to do with his hands, sliding them through Gil’s hair, then down his back, around his chest and down, lower, squeezing his cock through his flannel pants and making Gil drop his head with a heavy groan as waves of electricity shoot through every inch of his nerves. Malcolm starts to stroke him, to lift his own hips so their lengths brush together, but Gil has to pull away so everything isn’t over before they really get started.

When Malcolm whines at the loss of contact, Gil reassures him while carefully working open the Omega’s belt. 

“If you want me to fuck you, you’re going to have to be patient. But don’t worry, I promise to take care of you.” 

He keeps eye contact as he leans in to kiss Malcolm’s abdomen again and the look he gets in return is so warm and soft, he could stay just like this forever. Malcolm’s hands are running through Gil’s hair again when he says, “I’ve wanted you for so long, though.”

Gil gets the button of Malcolm’s fly open and a surge of scent nearly overwhelms him, he has to bite his lip and take several deep breaths before he can even think of continuing, his body so overheated and every last one of his senses telling him to mate and claim. 

Because without even going any further, he knows Malcolm is sopping wet and ready for him. 

“I promise I’ll make it worth the wait,” Gil finally chokes out. He keeps eye contact as he drags the zipper of Malcolm’s pants down as slowly as he possibly can, not bothering to hold back the dark chuckle at the way Malcolm throws his head back with a frustrated curse when he’s only halfway down and purposely pulling the fabric out so there’s hardly any contact at all. 

Though he curls his fingers around the base of Malcolm’s cock the moment it springs free, it’s the only attention Gil gives it, noting the long, thin length, the taught, flushed skin, and glistening head from how much precome has smeared around the inside of his underwear. After a quick, teasing squeeze of the base though, GIl returns his attention to Malcolm’s clothes. 

He wants to devour the man in front of him but he doesn’t want  _ anything  _ in the way once he really gets started.

Gil carefully works everything down Malcolm’s body, not having to say anything to get him to lift his hips to help - which is a fucking sight to see and Gil wants to memorize it. The way his abdominal muscles flex and shift as he lifts himself entirely from his core…

Once the pants and underwear are gone, Gil is thankful he’s sitting back up again. Already the scent of Malcolm’s slick is killing him, driving his pulse rate through the roof and making him crave more, to bury himself in the slick heat of Malcolm’s body.

But he starts with a deep breath and a gentle kiss to Malcolm’s ankle, dragging his hands and lips up the curve of his calf, kissing the soft, sensitive flesh behind his knee. Malcolm jerks and actually  _ giggles  _ at that so Gil does it again with a wicked smirk. 

The further he moves, the closer he gets, the more his head spins and his heart hammers in his chest. 

Finally, Gil slips both hands beneath the perfect curve of Malcolm’s ass and teases down the cleft there, head spinning at just  _ how  _ wet he already is. It’s everywhere, and so thick on his fingers, in the air… he can  _ taste it  _ and he hasn’t even gotten his tongue there yet. 

“Fuck,  _ Malcolm… _ ”

Gil presses his face against the soft inside of Malcolm’s thigh and breathes deep. He’s trying to get his own body under control, to be able to fucking see straight or think halfway clearly but it’s all so fucking much. 

“That’s for you Gil…” Malcolm breathes out, “Fuck, you could knot me right now and I know I could take every inch….”

The surge of pure  _ want  _ that courses through Gil’s body almost takes over, almost makes him forget his other intentions - the teasing, the tasting - and simply make his claim.

But he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh at the very top of Malcolm's thigh instead, leaving one mark, then another, clear signs that he’s been here, that Malcolm is slowly becoming his. 

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He asks Malcolm with a growl before taking one of his balls between his lips and giving it a gentle roll around his tongue. 

Malcolm shouts, hips raised off the ground and grits out, “You’re one to talk…”

Gil doesn’t stay there long, desperate to properly,  _ finally,  _ get a taste of him.

So he licks down slowly, flicking his tongue along Malcolm’s perineum while holding his cheeks apart, letting him squirm for now, and then lets out a slow gust of warm breath across his hole and watches as it flutters around nothing.

More curses fill the overheated air of Malcolm’s apartment.

He starts begging.

Strings of half thought out words, pleas for more, for something, for anything, are like music to Gil’s ears.

One day, he’ll string him along and make him so on edge that Malcolm will come from a single touch.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Gil groans, a deep rumble from the bottom of his chest as he  _ finally  _ swirls his tongue around the ring of muscle and gets a good, proper taste. 

And he savors it, savors Malcolm’s high pitched cries of pleasure, the way he rocks down into Gil’s face, a better indication of his need for more than any of the incoherent words coming from the kids mouth. 

Gil slowly, properly, thoroughly, eats Malcolm out.

He doesn’t bother with too much teasing, simply getting a good feel for how loose Malcolm is, for how much and how quickly he can take it. Before long Gil is fucking his tongue into Malcolm’s sopping wet hole, ocassionally pulling out long enough to flutter against the muscle, to kiss and nip and drag his fingers around it. His own body sings in reaction to Malcolm’s nosies, to the way he grinds his hips against Gil’s face, rocking down and needing more, greedy for it. 

Gil slips a finger in beside his tongue, curling it just so as he searches…

“Fuck fuck fuck…  _ Gil… _ ”

Malcolm’s thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably on either side of Gil’s head and his body clenches around his finger. He looks up just in time to be made completely breathless by the sight of Malcolm spurting thick ropes of come all over his chest. 

He doesn’t stop the movement of his finger, massaging that sensitive spot until there are tears in Malcolm’s eyes… but he doesn’t say stop... 

So Gil takes it a step further, and the moment Malcolm seems completely spent, bends down and takes his cock all the way into his mouth. 

When Malcolm lets out another curse and a word of encouragement, the hands he has in Gil’s hair trembling but not pulling him away, he starts moving in earnest.

There’s still the sharp tang of come that hits his tongue, but Gil wants more. Wants to choke on it. He works a second finger into Malcolm’s body, his own spine shuddering at just how easily he takes them, switching to three after only a couple of thrusts. 

He could take his knot, he could slip so easily inside and fuck him deep, maybe even fuck him on his knot for a little while before making him come again. 

But for now, he treats himself to the taste of Malcolm’s cock, to the way it jerks and twitches and never really goes completely soft in his lips. He treats himself to the noises Malcolm makes as he slowly and thoroughly opens him up. The hands in his hair twist and tug, but always pull him back in for more, Malcolm fucks up into his mouth, grazing the back of GIl’s throat as he hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, fucks a fourth finger into him at the same time he bottoms out. 

“Gil.. _ Gil… I’m… _ ” Malcolm can’t get more than a syllable out at a time. His hips snap up several times in quick succession, harder, deeper, until he’s spilling down Gil’s throat. 

Gil holds him deep, keeps his fingers working at a steady pace and taking everything Malcolm has to give, swallowing so that his muscles contract around Malcolm’s cock and he shouts with another surge of release.

Breathless and seemingly at a loss for words, Malcolm tugs hard at Gil’s hair once he’s completely spent, pulling him up and off as he sags back down against the ground, Gil’s fingers still buried deep in his body. 

Though he doesn’t pull them free, he does relent a little, stilling his movements and slowly moving up Malcolm’s body like a cat on the prowl. He licks up his abdomen, enjoying the breathless gasps Malcolm makes with each swipe of Gil’s tongue as he savors every last drop of his first release. Gil takes a moment to work both nipples once more, delighted at how Malcolm curses him in his over sensitive state.

He could live on the kid’s noises alone. 

When he finally reaches Malcolm’s lips Gil is treated to a deep, hungry,  _ filthy _ kiss. Malcolm seems to want to chase the taste of himself from Gil’s mouth, licking in and swiping his tongue in an almost desperate manner. Gil drinks him up, luxuriates in the feel of him, in his taste and their need for one another. 

“Fucking,  _ hell,  _ Gil…” Malcolm hums with a massive, almost drunken smile and lays his head back. Gil occasionally makes a small movement of his fingers, pulling quick gasps from Malcolm while he catches his breath. 

“As much as I love this,” He says while running his hands up and down Gil’s sweater over his chest. “You are still  _ far  _ too overdressed for the occasion.” 

Gil smirks and slowly slips his fingers free of Malcolm’s hole. There’s a gush of slick that follows and he buries his face in the side of Malcolm’s neck with a deep groan. “Would you like me to fix that?” He asks before nipping at the long, taut muscle there, dragging his teeth up and sucking lightly at his mating gland. He wants to sink his teeth in, claim him completely. By the way Malcolm presses in against his attention, he wants it, too. 

“Yes….” Malcolm breathes out. “ _ And  _ I want you naked,” he adds, startling a quick laugh out of Gil that he understood the necessity of clarification in that moment. 

Gil sits back on his knees so he can pull the offending garment up and toss it to the couch. But then he pauses with his hands on the bottom of his long sleeve t-shirt when Malcolm suddenly bursts out in uncontrollable laughter. 

“Seriously?” He asks with a small chuckle of his own.

It takes a minute for Malcolm to catch his breath enough to speak, but when he does, he puts a hand over the graphic at the center of Gil’s chest.

“Is that a t-rex with a santa hat?”

“Lizzy picked it,” Gil gives Malcolm an exaggerated pout then runs a hand down the image of the dinosaur. It has a scarf, too. “Don’t laugh, next year you and CJ will have to wear the matching Christmas eve pj’s too.”

That sobers Malcolm up fast and his mirth flashes into a sudden look of hope and longing. “I’d be honored.”

“You can count on it,” Gil assures him as he tugs the shirt next. Malcolm stares up at him with such a deep look of love and devotion that Gil’s heart twists in his chest and the lust coursing through his veins is secondary to the love he needs to show this man. Slowly, he leans forward, letting Malcolm do his own exploration of his now bare chest. “I promise you, Malcolm. I love you so fucking much. And I have no intention of giving you -” 

His words are cut off by a hiss from a sharp pain that explodes in his knee as he covers the last inch.

Malcolm is immediately concerned, brows furrowed and a deep set frown on his lips. “What’s wrong?”

Carefully, so as not to aggravate the other knee, Gil shifts to his side with a soft grunt. “These knees aren’t what they used to be, apparently. And your floor isn’t exactly forgiving.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell my floor off the first chance I get,” Malcolm assures him while following him over, shifting out from under Gil so he can be the one leaning over him. He gives Gil a light kiss, one hand dragging down Gil’s chest with a firm enough push that he knows Malcolm wants him on his back. “Are you going to be okay?”

It was a quick and stabbing pain, only a touch of an ache ligering now that he’s not got his weight on it. Still, Gil makes sure to bend and stretch it a moment before nodding. “Yeah,” he says with a nod and a grip in Malcolm’s hair to pull him in for another deep kiss. “I’m going to be wonderful.” He murmurs between kisses.

Apparently, it’s Malcolm turn for exploration, though he’s nowhere near as patient as Gil had been. Though he works kisses down Gil’s chest, it’s quick and fleeting presses of his lips before he’s at the elastic band of Gil’s pants. Gil sucks in a deep breath as he’s stroked through the thick fabric, groans when Malcolm mouths at the shape of him. “You sure your old joints are going to be okay?” Malcolm asks with a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

He gives Malcolm’s bare ass a quick, sharp smack which earns him a high pitched gasp that melts into a deep moan. 

_ That  _ is something to explore in the future....

“These old joints will keep up  _ just fine,  _ I promise.” Gil answers in a dark, warning tone. 

The  _ look  _ of pure desire he gets from Malcolm makes a new surge of heat coil in his belly, and he almost begs him to get on with it. His need to be buried deep in his lover’s body is driving him insane, making his skin tingle in anticipation and it seems like every single thing Malcolm does just drives him more and more wild.

With far less finesse than Gil had shown, Malcolm tugs on the band of Gil’s pants and drags down both the flanel and his underwear in one motion, tossing both to the side before he crawls back up to inspect his prize while straddling Gil’s legs. 

“Fuck, Gil,” he says, breathless. Malcolm reaches out and runs the flat of his palm up the underside of Gil’s cock. “I always knew you’d be huge.”

His very touch is electric, making the muscles in Gil’s body twitch and jump, aching for more. “Flatterer,” he grits out, trying to will his body to calm down enough to speak. “You don’t need to do any more work to get in my pants.” 

“I find that a little flattery will get me far more than just in your pants.” He wraps his long fingers around Gil, making slow full strokes, pausing to thumb at the head and smear more of the already copious precome along the smooth skin.

“ _ Fuck…” _ Gil watches the movement of his hand, how the dark flushed and swollen skin is such a deep contrast to the pale flesh of Malcolm. “You don’t need it for that, either,” he manages…  _ barely. _

The look on Malcolm’s face is so soft when Gil says that, that the sudden shock of being enveloped in the wet warmth of Malcolm’s mouth nearly has him tipping over the edge. 

Heat and pleasure crash through his body, too much, too sharp, and far too fast. He holds his breath and let’s Malcolm explore, taste him and feel the weight of him for as long as he possibly can. 

But it’s too much, Malcolm is  _ far  _ too good at this, and Gil’s been on edge for too long already. 

“If you want me to actually fuck you,” Gil manages after a few more bitten off curses. He tugs at Malcolm’s hair. “You need to stop.” 

Malcolm doesn't exactly comply right away. 

Instead, he pulls off tortuously slowly with a long, deep suck. Then he flicks his tongue in a wicked fashion against the very tip while looking up at Gil with a glint in his eyes like a cat that got the cream. 

“Come on, baby,” Gil breathes out. He curls a hand around Malcolm’s face, cups his cheek. “Let me fuck you. Please.”

_ That,  _ apparently, does the trick.

Malcolm surges up for a kiss, distracting Gil with the smooth and endless glide of his lips while he rocks his hips down, getting every inch of his dick soaked in slick just from the way he slips along the cleft of his ass. 

Gil reaches down and holds himself steady, gripping the base of his cock tight while Malcolm finally begins to line up and sink down. 

They stare at each other, sharing hot, wet breaths while he moves achingly slow, taking in Gil inch by inch. Every single nerve in Gil’s body feels alive as he’s encased in the impossible tightness of Malcolm’s body, and only the need to see Malcolm’s face, to see how he reacts to being filled, keeps him from dropping his head back and just letting the sensation overwhelm him. 

It’s the sweetest kind of heaven having Malcolm take him in like this. Once Malcolm’s hips settle on his Gil shifts, bending his knees - ignoring the slight protest in the left one - and planting his feet so he can angle himself deeper, just a touch more. It makes Malcolm’s mouth hang open with a long, satisfied sigh.

For a long time, they lose themselves in their next kiss. Malcolm is taking his time to adjust while Gil focuses on Malcolm’s lips and touching every inch of his body he can reach. 

He’s in fucking heaven and Malcolm hasn’t even started to move yet.

But oh, when he does…

With a slow roll of his hips, Malcolm begins to work himself on Gil’s length, small, purposeful movements at first that build and build on each other. He pulls up a little further and snaps back down, shocking a gasp out of Gil. It breaks the kiss and Malcolm smirks with a wicked glint in his eyes.

He does it again.

And again.

Gil can’t focus on anything except for the tightness around his cock, the feel of Malcolm all around him and in his arms. 

But he’s not one to just lie back and let someone else run the show.

With a tight, bruising grip on Malcolm’s hips, Gil rocks his own hips up to meet him on Malcolm’s next thrust down.

Malcolm throws his head back and lets out a sharp curse. 

“Fuck,  _ yes. _ ” He moans, sitting up to lean back and take Gil even deeper, bouncing on his cock while he drags his hand down his own chest.

The sight before Gil is one he is never, in his life, going to forget. 

With one hand over Gil’s heart, Malcolm alternates between quick snaps of his hips and slower, sensual full body rolls. A rainbow of lights are scattered over every inch of his body, changing and dancing with every shift of his muscles. The firelight flickers across his face, reflecting in his gaze and the way he keeps his eyes locked with Gil’s, makes his flushed cheeks look an even deeper shade of red, and his kiss swollen lips look like they’re just begging for more.

They move like that for a long time, the pressure building up in Gil’s gut until he knows he doesn’t have much longer. 

On a particularly hard downward thrust Malcolm’s head falls back again with a deep groan.

Gil’s knot is starting to swell.

He picks up the pace, fucking up into Malcolm faster, harder. As quick as his own body will allow.

“Wanna show me how much you can take?” He asks Malcolm, breathless, wrapping his long fingers around the omega’s hard, bobbing cock. 

Malcolm’s mouth is hanging open, staring down at Gil and unable to form coherent words. He just nods, leaning at just the right angle that he can support himself on one arm and start to fuck  _ himself  _ on Gil’s quickly growing knot. 

Each thrust is a small explosion that curls up Gil’s spine, coiling his nerves tighter and tighter until he doesn’t know how much more he can take, is  _ amazed  _ at how much Malcolm is taking.

Fuck what he wouldn’t give for a mirror right now, or a soft bed so he could have Malcolm on his knees and  _ see  _ what he’s doing to the kid, see how wide he stretches, how fucking beatifully he takes Gil’s knot. 

The thought is enough to bring him right to the edge and Gil starts to curse, meeting each snap of Malcolm’s hips with his own. Then he’s slamming him down one last time and coming with a long drawn out moan, back arched up off the floor as he empties himself with pulse after pulse of come deep within Malcolm’s body. 

His entire body sings in pleasure, a cool wave spreading out along his skin in a glorious tingle with each spurt of his release. 

But Malcolm…

Malcolm doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, grinding down hard on Gil’s knot with powerful rolls of his hips. He doesn’t stop when Gil is spent and over sensitive but still pressing hard and deep within Malcolm’s body. He doesn’t stop when Gil is moaning and breathless and gripping the cheeks of Malcolm’s ass tight enough to bruise. He doesn’t stop when Gil manages to catch a breath, to surge up and capture Malcolm’s lips in a kiss so they’re both sitting up, arms wrapped around one another.

He doesn’t stop when those kisses become bites, become a trail of lingering nips along his jaw to his neck.

He doesn’t stop when Gil drags his teeth along his mating gland.

When he teases a bite.

“ _ Gil… _ ” Malcolm grips his hands in Gil’s hair tight enough it stings and Gil doesn’t fucking care. He won’t let Gil move, holds him close.

He smells like heaven.

“ _ Please, Gil…” _

Gil sinks his teeth in.

Malcolm freezes, and  _ everything  _ changes.

The first thing Gil registers is the way that Malcolm’s body clenches around him like a vice as he spills hot and heavy between them, coating both their chests in white. The next thing he registers, is that he’s coming again…  _ hard. _

His body feels like he’s floating, a bright explosion of lights and scents and tactile sensations overwhelming him and he’s  _ trembling  _ with it. He can feel the connection, the pull of  _ Malcolm  _ not just connected to him physically but in his heart, in his  _ bones _ . Nothing in his life has ever felt like this and he never, ever wants it to end.

Shaking almost as much as Gil is, Malcolm lets out a long, low groan. “Gil… Gil, I can  _ feel  _ you filling me up.” 

In a daze, Gil tries to focus on his new mate, on the man he loves. But he can’t stop the urge to lick and suck at the fresh bite high on his neck, pulling back just to lean in and slather it in his attention again. 

“Are you…”

Gil hums against Malcolm’s neck. “Still coming, baby.” He says with a nod, slipping a hand down between them to press against the light swell at the base of Malcolm’s abdomen. 

“Fuck,  _ yes…” _ Malcolm begins to clench around him, just dragging out the never ending high that Gil seems to have found himself in, and more than happy to do so.

Eventually, he’s able to pull Gil away from his neck and into a deep, sensual kiss. Hands go everywhere, touching, exploring, teasing, until Gil finally starts to come up from under the water and learn how to breathe again.

“ _ Christ,  _ Malcolm.” He says before kissing him again. “You…” Gil, apparently, still isn’t thinking clearly as his words simply won’t come. 

Thankfully, Malcolm is a little more coherent, and understands the swell of complicated and overpowering emotions GIl is trying to squeeze down into something he could actually say. 

“I know,” Malcolm nods, a wide, beautiful fucking smile breaking across his face. The fire still lights up his eyes, Christmas lights dancing across the pure  _ joy  _ on his features. “I love you, too.” 

They stay locked together like that, sharing soft, gentle kisses and even softer touches for a time that stretches on forever and is far too short all at once. Gil never wants it to end, never wants to let go or have Malcolm leave his side ever again. Despite being the one buried in his lover’s body, he feels  _ full,  _ and knows that Malcolm will keep him feeling that way and all the’ll have to do is be fucking close to one another. 

But like this, like this they are perfect.

###    


  
  


Christmas morning, Malcolm wakes with a groan to his alarm going off extra early. 

He stretches in the guest bed at his mother’s house, every inch of his muscles protesting with a pleasant ache that goes through to his very bones. 

With a smile, he drags his fingers over the fresh mating bite high on his neck. 

It won’t be light out for a few hours, but he and Gil had spent the last of their time tied together (which felt like it had lasted for  _ ages _ ) discussing exactly how this morning would go. 

There’s no hiding their new status from anyone. Even if they wanted to, it would be near impossible. Gil was visibly upset when they had parted for the evening, his Alpha instincts and new flood of hormones making it difficult to do what they needed to do. Jackie had been a beta, so they’d never been able to experience the true pull of an Alpha/Omega bond and Malcolm can already tell it’s going to take time for them to adjust to the new change together. Malcolm even had a hard time getting any sleep without Gil next to him. 

Apparently he lays there long enough the snooze goes off again and Malcolm forces himself out of bed. 

He’s already informed Jessica of his plans. 

While she wasn’t thrilled (to say the least) at being told she wouldn’t have her grandchild with her on Christmas morning, her tune changed entirely the moment she noticed his new mark. He’d been wrapped in a nearly crushing hug, but then she had pulled back with a frown.

“It isn’t Vijay, is it?”

Malcolm had shaken his head and smiled. “Gil,” he’d said without hesitation. 

Honestly, he hadn’t a clue how she would react to the news, but apparently literally  _ anyone  _ but CJ’s father was good enough in her books.

As he stumbles around the bedroom to grab his clothes for the day, Malcolm stops by the mirror and places a hand low on his belly. Gil had filled him so completely the night before, he’d actually noticed a difference, felt it, could  _ see  _ it. 

It’s the hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

Gil had agreed wholeheartedly. 

While he can’t fool himself into thinking the slight difference is still there, he smiles at the memory anyway. Maybe one day, they will have their own children. 

For Gil, Malcolm would gladly go through all that again.

And so, so much more.

CJ is still fast asleep when he tiptoes into her room and doesn’t stir until he sits gently at the edge of her bed.

“Daddy?” She croaks, peeking out from under her massive pile of blankets. Then her brain seems to catch up with her and remember what day it is as she bolts upright. “Christmas?”

Malcolm laughs, and gives her a nod. “Yeah, baby girl. It’s Christmas. But there’s been a  _ slight  _ change of plans for this morning,” he says, holding up his thumb and forefinger almost touching to indicate something very small despite a massive change in plans. 

An hour later, just as the sun is beginning to illuminate the city around them, Malcolm and an  _ extremely  _ bouncy and hyperactive CJ are walking up the snow covered steps to Gil and Lizzy’s home wrapped in their thick coats and carrying a small bag of gifts each. 

Before using the key Gil gave him to unlock the door, Malcolm sends off a quick text to let him know they’ve arrived. 

“Now remember,” he whispers to CJ who looks like she’s ready to vibrate out of her skin in excitement, “we need to be completely silent so we don’t spoil the surprise, okay?”

All she can manage is a series of quick nods as he slowly pushes the door open. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t make a sound. 

As silently as they can manage - and CJ does a surprisingly good job at it - the two of them make their way to the living room where they pull the gifts from their bags and place them strategically under the tree. Malcolm had very specifically picked up just a few of the gifts he’d gotten for CJ - and none from his mother - and all of the ones they had gotten for Lizzy to bring over. 

Just as Malcolm is sticking a bow to the top of CJ’s head they hear a loud thunk from above their heads and Lizzy’s feet on the ground. 

She sounds like a herd of elephants on her own and Malcolm momentarily despairs as to what it’s going to be like having both of them living under the same roof. 

Amazing, is what it’s going to be like.

But maybe a little loud at times.

A moment later he’s brought back to the present by a loud, shocked gasp and Lizzy standing frozen in the entryway, staring at both Malcolm and CJ where they stand next to the Christmas tree. Gil comes up behind her wearing the Santa-Rex t-shirt Malcolm had seen him in the night before (and a  _ different  _ set of bottoms) and Malcolm’s heart absolutely soars. 

“Aren’t you going to go get your Christmas present?” Gil asks her with a soft smile.

That seems to break Lizzy from her stupor and her face breaks into a massive smile. Her  _ and  _ CJ squeal as they collide in the center of the room in an excited chatter of words and sounds that Malcolm  _ thinks  _ are actual sentences but he can’t really be a hundred percent sure. 

Besides, as soon as they do, his  _ mate  _ is at his side, sliding a hand around Malcolm’s waist and coming in for a chaste but lingering kiss. 

“Missed you last night,” Gil says quietly against his lips.

“I was gone for less than six hours,” he points out, despite suddenly feeling more at ease just from the Alpha’s presence at his side.

“Too long.”

Malcolm rolls his eyes but before he can make a rebuttal, there’s another squeal of excitement.

Which is all the warning he gets before he finds his arms full of jubilant eight year old. When he comes up from his hug with Lizzy, he finds Gil in a similar situation with CJ and they all sort of come together in the center of the room. 

“Is this real?” CJ asks quietly, like she can’t quite believe it.

Gil kisses her temple and nods. “This is as real as it gets,” he assures her. “We’re going to be a family now. And we have a lot to figure out. But we’re going to do it together. Sound good to you two?”

All they get in response is a lot of enthusiastic nodding. 

But then Lizzy sniffs and Malcolm catches a tear slipping down her cheek.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks.

Lizzy shakes her head. “Nothing, it’s just… I think Santa’s real,” she says quietly, a massive smile on her face. “Because this is what I asked him for.” Malcolm doesn’t think his heart could feel any more warmth or love as all four of them hold each other close. 

Even still, CJ just scoffs but has a kind smile and her eyes are warm. “Well I asked him for something I didn’t get, so, I don’t think so.” 

“What did you ask him for?” Gil asks her, genuinely curious. 

She looks at him then over at Malcolm, nose twisted up with a silly look. “I’m tired of being the baby,” CJ informs them all. 

Her next words leave Malcolm breathless, and Gil with a look of shock and pure joy on his face.

“I told him I wanted to be a big sister.”

(CJ’s present shows up 9 months late, but she does, eventually, believe.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming on this journey with me. All that is left is the epilogue.


	13. A Bright-Arroyo Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been a labor of love for a very special lady. But the epilogue is for all my Gobs. Despite everything we've been through, this year has been better because you guys are in it. 
> 
> I love you all so much.

#  Epilogue 

_ A Bright-Arroyo Christmas _

When CJ Bright-Arroyo is thirteen years old, all she wants to do is sleep.

Even on Christmas morning.

Her sister, however, has other ideas.

“CJ, I told you half an hour ago it was time to get up.” Elizabeth throws one of CJ’s softball mitts at her head but CJ manages to duck under the covers again just in time for her thick blankets to catch the brunt of the blow. 

“And I knew it would take you that long to actually get ready,” she grumbles from under the covers. 

It’s  _ warm  _ under there and it’s  _ cold  _ not under there so she gumbles about getting up a little longer before she’s shocked by Elizabeth tugging the blankets away without warning. She just barely manages not to shout and wake the whole house.

“They’re going to be getting up on their own any minute now, so we need to get them before they get to Dad and Pops so we can all wake them up and wish them a happy anniversary and Merry Christmas  _ together.” _ Just like CJ expects, her sister’s still got on her PJs (it’s a Bright-Arroyo tradition to always wear matching PJs Christmas eve and despite never showing her face outside of her room not put together, even Elizabeth won’t snub that), but her long black hair is perfectly styled - half up with curls draping her shoulders - and she’s got a light dusting of eyeshadow and blush on with eyeliner and mascara perfect as always. She’s even got her earrings in and her PJ’s look perfectly crisp like she hadn’t even slept in them.

“Ugh, fine.” CJ, on the other hand, who couldn’t put on makeup that immaculate if someone paid her, grabs a scrunchie from the night stand and puts her own shoulder length hair up in a messy top knot. Her clothes look  _ decidedly  _ slept in, crumpled and even a little damp at the shoulder where she  _ may  _ have drooled on them a little. “I’ll get the baby and meet you in the hallway.” 

Once Elizabeth disappears, CJ shuffles out of bed and across her room, grabbing her favorite robe to keep herself warm before making it down the hallway to Evan’s room.

Evan is the newest, and according to her dad,  _ last,  _ addition to their household. He’ll be two in January and this is going to be his first Christmas where he’ll really be at least somewhat aware of the excitement and get to participate in everything. To be honest, CJ’s pretty excited about it. Just as excited as she always is for her siblings’ first experiences. Though everyone spoils the mess out of Evan, of course, being the baby and the only boy in the family. 

Alice, the oldest of her younger siblings, is five. She’s too smart for her own good - for all of their own goods - and the loudest of the bunch by far. Since she was old enough to talk, she’s always had the craziest things to say that keeps their dads (and CJ and Elizabeth) in stitches. It had been her idea to have the girls all dress up as the Ninja Turtles for Halloween while Evan was Splinter the Rat who got carried around on CJ’s back in a carrier.

(Their dads had a  _ field day  _ with the whole thing and she’s pretty sure she’ll be seeing those pictures at all their weddings one day.)

Katie is three. She’s obsessed with their cats, shiny rocks, and the garden of flowers kept in the front yard. Somehow she’s tricked all three of their cats into spending every night in her room curled up on her bed. CJ is  _ convinced  _ that she’s sneaking bits of chicken in there to feed them late at night. And when she’s not inside curled up with her kitties, she’s in the front yard digging in the dirt. Rhiannon, their nanny, is always despairing about how much mud she tracks through the house. 

And then there’s Lizzy, or  _ Elizabeth,  _ as she’s insisted they all call her since she turned twelve. (“Lizzy is a baby name!”) CJ still loves her to death, and she’s still her closest best friend. They just don’t do all the same things anymore. Which is okay. Elizabeth comes to every single one of CJ’s softball games and CJ makes sure she’s front and center at her sister’s piano and dance recitals. 

It was tough, at first, learning how to share not just her home but her  _ dad _ . And they had been right. Being a family wasn’t easy just because you loved each other. They had to work at it. Talk about it. Cry about it. 

“Good morning, little bug.”

Evan is already awake and sits up at the sound of her voice, big blue eyes staring up at her in excitement as he reaches out. “Ci Ci!”

And it was all  _ so worth it.  _

CJ lifts Evan out of his crib - they’ll be switching him to a toddler bed soon, though Malcolm insists it isn’t a rush as long as he isn’t escaping - and gets in a few minutes of snuggles before she has to take him to the others.

It’s been a good year for their family.

Her father, who made good on his word and never disappeared from her life again, got married in January (CJ even got to be part of the ceremony!) and has a brand new baby of his own he and his husband will be bringing by in the afternoon. 

Aunt Ainsley is engaged, which her grandmother is thrilled to death about. Apparently she’d been more than a little miffed when the four of them had run off and done their own little private elopement ceremony on Christmas day six years ago. So now she’s finally getting to throw the big high society wedding she’s been dying to do for years. CJ has heard Aunt Ainsley bitch to her dad  _ more than once  _ about having to indulge her and it being all Malcolm’s fault. Though he always reminds her that at least he kept her from being hounded about children for the last thirteen years. 

CJ hopes her dads never bother her about kids. Seems silly.

Gil made captain this year. That celebration had been pretty epic. Though the younger kids had stayed with Grandma Jess, she and Elizabeth had been allowed to be at the party where dozens of officers, detectives, and higher ups kept coming and going, giving their congratulations. Elizabeth had been thrilled to get a new dress, and CJ was just glad she got to listen in on jokes most adults avoid around her usually.

Despite getting to attend the party, they’d been shuffled off with Grandma Delila and Grandpa Emilio as it wound down. 

Honestly, she’s surprised she doesn’t have another new sibling on the way with the way her dads had been looking at each other near the end of the night. 

She’s old enough to know how this stuff  _ actually  _ works now.

“I want presents,” Katie is rubbing her eyes and whining sleepily when CJ gets to where the other three are standing together in the hallway. The three year old takes after CJ in how she’d rather be sleeping pretty much twenty-four seven. 

Alice is wide awake, though. “We have to wake up Pappa and Daddy first,” she points out. “We can’t do  _ anything  _ without them.” 

“Exactly.” Elizabeth lifts Katie into her arms, likely so she won’t sneak back down the hall and down the stairs while they’re all making their way to the master bedroom. “We ready?”

CJ slowly pokes the door open, making sure to stick her head in and check that it’s safe to enter. It’s been a  _ long time  _ since she and Elizabeth had learned the hard way that  _ knocking  _ was always a good idea. But Christmas morning is typically pretty safe.

Malcolm and Gil are curled up together in the center of their massive bed, blankets draped halfway up. Malcolm is sound asleep with his head on Gil’s chest, but Gil is already awake, stroking his hand down his husband’s bare back and watching him sleep with a soft smile. CJ catches his attention and, thankfully, he doesn’t stir. He just gives her a silent wink and waves them in. 

He knows what’s coming.

“Okay,” she whispers over her shoulder. “On the count of three. One, two…”

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!”

She and Elizabeth say one each and the little girls get their own wishes in as all five of them barrel into the room and immediately crowd the bed. Even Evan squeals in excitement making a sound that’s a mix of both exclamations.

A minute later, all seven of them are piled on the bed, her dad instantly wide awake with Elizabeth under one arm and Katie in his lap. Alice sprawls across both their dads while Gil takes Evan from CJ, who curls up on his other side. 

They spend a good while just cuddling, and Katie even starts to fall back asleep on Malcolm’s shoulder. But eventually, Alice has to remind them of what they’re all supposed to be doing.

“Can we open presents now?” She asks, rolling over and catching a knee in Gil’s stomach. He lets out a rough ‘oof’ and gives her a light shove back towards Malcolm.

“Don’t forget the hot chocolate,” CJ says. It’s not Christmas without too much hot chocolate. And Malcolm has to be the one to make it. Gil’s never gotten it  _ quite  _ right.

Katie picks her head up from Malcolm’s shoulder just and inch, though her eyes aren’t open. “Cimonom rolls.”

“Of course,” Malcolm says with a kiss to her forehead. “Can’t forget your papa’s cinnamon rolls. He stayed up extra late to get those ready for today.” 

CJ and Elizabeth had gotten to help this year - which had been hilarious and  _ messy  _ and even though it took them longer to clean up the kitchen than to actually make the dough, it had so been worth it. 

“And,” Gil says, tickling Evan who squirms and giggles. “We need to see if Santa liked this year’s cookies.”

Over the years, CJ has come to understand and appreciate a little more of the magic of Christmas. Even though she still believes in Santa, and that magic and holiday miracles really can happen, she knows not to rely on them. That magic created by your own hands for  _ others  _ can be just as beautiful as the real thing. 

And the cookies  _ were _ delicious. 

So she knows the little ones will get a kick out of seeing all the little nibbles from their attempts at baking. 

There’s no such thing as a quiet morning in the Bright-Arroyo house. 

Especially on Christmas.

An hour later, there are shouts of excitement, arguments, wrapping paper  _ everywhere  _ and plenty of hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls to go around. 

By noon, there are no more presents under the tree in the family room, there are several garbage bags full of torn and shredded paper in the garage, and Evan is napping quietly - worn out from all the excitement - in Elizabeth’s lap.

Five minutes after the chime of the hour, the doorbell rings. She and Malcolm jump up to answer the door. The second it’s open, Malcolm is taking a crying two month old Joey out of a very haggard looking Aiden’s hands while CJ hops into her Alpha father’s arms and holds him tight. 

“Merry Christmas, dad!”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Vijay squeezes her extra long before setting her back down on her feet. “Did Santa treat you well this year?”

“Well, he’s never gonna top Alice. But I guess a new iPad is okay,” she tells him with a wink. It makes him laugh loud and full and he ruffles her hair, which she only lets him do because it’s Christmas. 

They make their way into the house where Vijay makes extra sure Aiden gets a comfortable place to relax while Malcolm happily coos at the baby for a little while. 

“You know,” Vijay says, sitting next to his husband and rubbing the center of his shoulders. “Evan’s almost two. Isn’t it about time for the next one?”

“Not a chance,” Malcolm replies without looking up from the baby.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Gil comes and leans against the arm of the chair Malcolm is in, putting his finger out for Joey to grip onto. “Especially around Christmas.”

CJ smirks. “You don’t want me to make another wish?”

They both glare at her for a second before turning back to the infant, cooing once more. 

“You  _ are  _ adorable,” Gil says in a lilting voice. “But when you poop, we get to give you back!”

When the doorbell rings again, CJ hops up to get it, apparently having appointed herself as the official greeter.

This time, it’s JT and Tally with Aniyiah and Phillip. The kids immediately bolt past CJ and into the house to find Alice and Katie to play with while CJ asks if they have anything they need help carrying in from their car. 

There are several dishes piled up in boxes, and thankfully, she and JT can manage just the two of them. 

“Thanks for the help, Calamity Jane,” he says with a wink.

“Still only half right, James Tiberius.”

“Well, you’re not even close. So I’m still winning.” He laughs while they stick the casserole dishes in the lower oven to stay warm. The top oven has a massive turkey in it that should be ready by the time everyone has arrived. 

“Nope. That’s your name. You answer to it, you’re stuck with it. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Grandma Jessica shows up at the same time as Edrisa. 

Which is… interesting.

They don’t really interact that often, and whenever they do, Edrisa’s always got a little bit of a starry look in her eyes. And Grandma Jess is… kind but overly so in a way that Edrisa never really picks up on as not quite authentic. 

So she rescues the good Doctor as quickly as she can and shows off all the cool sciency things they’d all gotten for Christmas. They spend at least half an hour in the play room with all the little kids.

By the time Dani and Ainsley show up, Gil has kicked Malcolm out of the kitchen (because as good as he is at Hot Chocolate, it’s pretty much the  _ only  _ thing he can make) and is poking at the turkey. Malcolm is not so obviously using JT and Tally as an excuse to not be alone with Grandma Jess, and Vijay is sitting quietly with a napping Aiden against his shoulder, Joey asleep on his chest. 

CJ takes a quick picture before the chaos overtakes them again, then goes to greet Dani and Ainsley.

When Grandma and Grandpa Arroyo show up with more boxes of food and gifts, CJ thanks her lucky stars for their timing. The  _ wedding  _ discussions had struck up again and were getting heated. But it takes every single hands free adult to unload everything they’d brought over. 

Even Grandma Jess grabs a small bag.

CJ has absolutely no idea what time it is once everyone is in and seated around the massive table in their dining room and she doesn’t really care.

All that matters is that their home is a loud cacophony of laughter and merriment, warm, delicious smelling food, and even warmer company. It’s bright and beautiful and chaotic, and she loves every single bit of it.

She and Malcolm are in the kitchen to grab the last of the dishes to take to the dining room so the meal can start properly when she stops abruptly and turns to grab him in a tight hug. 

“I love you, so much,” she says, trying to hold back the tears. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

She lays her head on his chest, full of warmth and joy and so much happiness.

Because it’s been a long journey, and love is hard, but they’re a family, and they’re  _ all  _ in this together. And every single struggle is so worth it when it all leads to this.

Malcolm kisses the crown of her head, and she can feel his smile.

“Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”

  
  



End file.
